Too Close
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This AU story begins when Rick pulls Kate from her submerged unit in Pandora/Linchpin. Rick's fascination with Sophia Turner is gone. He only cares about a near-drowned Kate.
1. Chapter 1

Too Close

Chapter 1

Swimming to the surface as rapidly as he can cut through the water, Castle can feel Kate limp in his arm, too limp. It seemed to take forever to find her gun and even longer to pull it loose from entrapment under his seat. It was only minutes, but minutes when Kate was submerged.

He surges toward the dock as soon as he breaks the surface, hoping someone will summon help - or better still, already has. A crowd of gawkers is staring intently at the water, and Rick can hear sirens in the distance - too far in the distance. A sturdy shaved-head giant reaches out a tattooed arm to pull Castle and his precious burden to land.

Checking for pulse and breathing, Rick finds neither. Recalling the lifeguard training he took to ensure Alexis' safety at his beach house, he starts CPR. Since his undercover kiss with Kate, he'd dreamed of having his lips meet hers again, but not this way.

Rick works desperately, hoping to see Kate expel some water and start breathing on her own, but she is unmoving beneath him. Splinters of wood from the dock dig into his knees, but he can't feel them. There's only trying to force life back into Kate, nothing else matters.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder is persistent, even as Rick tries to shrug it away. He turns his head just enough to see a head and a patch on an upper arm. An EMT, thank God. The medic brings his hands in to replace Rick's while another tech runs up with oxygen. Rick can only watch, wait, and pray.

Even as he clings to Kate's hand in the ambulance, Rick knows he has to make a call. His cellphone is soaked and useless, but when they get to the hospital, he can borrow one from the cops forming an escort. He could even search out a modern dinosaur, a payphone, but that would mean leaving Kate's side. No way does he want to do that; he's not even sure that he could.

* * *

"When is she going to wake up?" Jim Beckett demands from the physician who comes into Kate's room to monitor her condition.

The resident purses his lips. "Mr. Beckett, if I knew that, I'd tell you. Unfortunately, cases like this are unpredictable. There's danger of pneumonia, and from what Mr. Castle has been able to tell us, your daughter was without oxygen for a period of time. If the brain is deprived for too long - we'll just have to see. She is stable and breathing on her own and responding to stimuli. That's a good sign." His gaze sweeps over Jim and Rick. "Talk to her, both of you. Play her favorite music. Read from her favorite books. In some way, she may be able to hear you. Give her a reason to come back."

Alexis treads hesitantly into Kate's room as Rick is reading hoarsely from what Jim Beckett told him is Kate's favorite Derrick Storm adventure. "Where's Mr. Beckett?"

Rick attempts to clear the grunge from his throat. "He's trying to catch a couple of hours of sleep in the family lounge. I hope he succeeds. He's exhausted."

"So are you, Dad. I brought you another change of clothes. I can read to Detective Beckett for a while if you want to clean up a little."

"Is that your polite, daughterly way of telling your father that he reeks?"

"I'm just trying to help."

Rick forces his stiff joints out of his chair and leans down to kiss Alexis on the forehead. "I know, Pumpkin. And you're right. Give me whatever garments your superior fashion sense has dictated that I don."

Alexis hands over a tote bag. "There are some bacon brownies in there too. Detective Esposito sent them."

"Bless you, my child, and Esposito, too."

* * *

Kate's sodden mind could ignore the perky teenaged voice in her ears, but Rick's raspy tones carry a plea that urges her to fight her way to consciousness. She feels as if she's backstage at a theater, trying to make her entrance but having to get past a weighted blackout curtain to reach her mark. Inch by inch, she struggles to push it aside.

"Castle?"

"Kate! Oh, God! Kate, you're awake!" Rick hits the call button as he turns toward Alexis. "Go get her father!"

"What happened?" Kate asks as a nurse rushes into the room and pages a doctor.

Rick stares into the puzzled hazel eyes. "You don't remember?"

"Pigeons! I remember something about pigeons."

"That's right! Blakely mentioned them - right before he was shot."

"Shot? What?"

"The threat, Kate. He was about to tell us about Pandora, and the pigeons spooked him. He left the car, and someone shot him. Then a car shoved your unit into the water - with us in it."

"I don't remember any of that." She looks up at the doctor striding into the room. "Why don't I remember?"

Pulling a penlight from his pocket, he checks her eyes. "Pupils equal and reactive." He extends his hand to Kate. "Can you squeeze my fingers?" He nods as Kate's digits curl around his. "Good, good. Ms. Beckett, it is not uncommon for patients to be unable to recall events directly preceding a trauma. You experienced a near-drowning. That can be extremely challenging to the body."

"Dad saved you," Alexis interjects trailing a running Jim Beckett into the room.

"Thank, heaven!" Jim Beckett adds. "How are you, Katie-girl?"

"I'm OK, Dad," Kate assures him before fixing her gaze on Castle. "Thank you."

Rick brushes a strand of hair from Kate's face. "Almost lost my partner once. Wasn't about to let it happen this time. And Kate, whatever Sophia says or does, you are my partner."

* * *

Giving Jim Beckett some time with his daughter, Rick searches out the Java Hut franchise in the hospital lobby and spots a familiar figure. What the hell is Sophia doing here? "You really screwed up this time, Rick," the raven-haired beauty declares stalking up to Castle and urging him into an unoccupied corner. "You need to come with me."

"Screw that!" Castle retorts. "I'm not going anywhere but back upstairs to sit with Kate. I'm an American citizen on domestic soil. You have no authority here. You've said that yourself. That's why you needed Kate and me to do your dirty work. Well, we did it, and Kate almost died."

"You did it all right!" Sophia throws back. "You figured out the code to find Blakely and didn't tell me. That got him killed. You owe us, Rick. I need to know everything Blakely said before he walked into a bullet."

Rick's jaw tightens. "Most of it sounded crazy, but I'll send you a memo."

"Cute, Rick. No memos. Nothing traceable. You knew that from the first day you started trailing around after me like a worshipful puppy."

Rick spews air through closed lips. "More like a dumb puppy. Well, this dog's grown up Sophia and learned a few tricks. I can tell you what you want to know, such as it is, but Kate is going to have to know where I am - in your black-hooded way - and when I'm coming back."

Sophia smirks. "She must be really good in bed."

"I have no idea. We've never slept together, but she is probably the most remarkable woman I've ever met, present company included."

Sophia shakes her head. "So you're not in it for the thrill, like you were with me. You really love her."

"Yeah," Rick admits, "I really do."


	2. Chapter 2

Too Close

Chapter 2

Drumming her fingernails impatiently against the doorframe of Kate's room, Sophia waits for Rick to explain why he'll be gone. She can't understand why he's so devoted to the detective. She's beautiful, but there are more beautiful women, and Sophia includes herself among them. And keeping Rick at arm's length for four years? Sophia knows very few men who would wait that long. But she's well acquainted with Rick's sometimes infantile stubbornness. He's dug his feet in and isn't going to move until he gets what he wants - or at least thinks he does. Once she has him under her control again, he's not going anywhere unless she wants him too.

Sophia grimaces as Rick presses a kiss into Kate's palm. Really? "Are you finished?" she inquires as he exits the room.

"Temporarily, very temporarily. Let's get this over with."

* * *

The long elevator ride down to the bowels of the earth that shelter CIA headquarters is making Rick queasy, or maybe it's just the whole situation. He smoothed the edges when he wrote about Clara Strike, but after a while, he realized how ruthless Sophia could be. She never really cared who got hurt as long as she accomplished her mission. Her attitude about Kate is no different.

Fine. On the slimmest of chances that he might have heard something that will save the world, he'll tell her what Blakely said, but then he's out. As upsetting as it was to his spy alter ego, Rick pretended to have killed off Clara in the Storm universe. He should have let Clara and any residual affection he had for Sophia stay dead.

Sophia urges Rick into an interrogation room. From his experience with her, he knows how these chambers work. The temperature is set below or above the comfort level, depending on what will put the person being grilled more off their game. The floor and walls are hard, lending a disquieting echo to every sound. The microphone on the table is visible; the cameras are well hidden. Sophia waves him to a steel chair bolted to the floor and takes a seat opposite him. "All right, Rick, from the beginning, how did you find Blakely, and what did you get out of him?"

Rick quickly reveals how the positions of the chess pieces were code for a park and that he and Kate merely had to wait for Blakely to show up ."You should have called me when he did," Sophia rebukes.

"Right. Blakely is about to rabbit any second, and I'm supposed to get the CIA on the horn. It was bad enough that Kate and I had to tell him that his friend was dead. We were trying to gain his trust. He claimed he'd tell us about Pandora, but we needed to take him to the pier first."

"And did he tell you?"

"He started to talk about finding a linchpin, something that would send the whole economic and political structure of the world tumbling into an abyss. It sounded a few cards short of a full deck. If you hadn't been so interested in him, I would have just thought he was crazy, but then the line between genius and crazy can be pretty thin sometimes."

Sophia slaps the table. "I don't care about Blakely's mental health issues. What was the linchpin?"

Rick returns Sophia's steely stare. "The man about whose mental health you were unconcerned was scared by a flock of birds. Maybe he was right to be. Perhaps their beady eyes spotted his killer. In any case, he never had a chance to tell Kate and me what, assuming there is one, the linchpin is. If there is a point on which the future of this world turns, Blakely took it with him into the next one. And about a minute later, Kate and I were in the water."

"He didn't give you any clues as to the linchpin?"

"Not a one. That's it. I'm going back to Kate at the hospital."

Sophia rises from her chair, leaning over the table until her face is inches from Rick's. "No. You're not. We're going over this again until you give me something I can use. We'll start with you telling me which park, and how Blakely got there. You will tell me about me every single second of your time with Blakely until I get what I need. And I don't give a damn when you get back to your girlfriend."

* * *

Kate pushes up against her pillows. She would love to get up and move, but between her tethers to monitors and the antibiotics pouring through an IV into her bloodstream to fight pneumonia, she's pretty much stuck. Her father insisted on staying, at least until Rick returns, but he has a legal pad on his lap on which he's making notes for a brief for his current case. "Dad, what time is it?"

Jim Beckett glances at the watch he purchased to replace the one he gave to Kate. She was wearing the old timepiece when she went under. It's stowed with the rest of her belongings in her bedside table, but will need repair before it regains its function. "2 o'clock."

Kate twists the thin fabric of the hospital blanket between her fingers. "Rick said he'd be back by now. Damn agency!"

Jim lays his pad and pen on the floor and regards his daughter. "What agency?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you. I shouldn't have even said that much. Something is still screwing with my head."

"The doctor said something about electrolytes and acid levels in your blood. But he thought the situation would straighten out pretty soon."

"I wish it would hurry up. It's bad enough being down like this but I can't stand not thinking straight."

Jim takes her hand. "I know. My brilliant daughter is just like her brilliant mother. Johanna couldn't even stand having a cold because she said it made her muzzy."

"I remember. And she said the pills compromised her judgment. So she used to turn on the shower in the bathroom and steam the place up until she could breathe and then write up her notes in there. Once she sent me out for a pen with waterproof ink."

Jim grins. "I bought her a set of those as an add on Christmas present one year. They would have been a stocking stuffer if it hadn't been for your early and steadfast insistence that there is no such thing as Santa Claus. You've made it past worse than this, Katie-girl. We both have. And whatever you and Rick are caught up in, that you can't tell me about, you'll get past that too."

* * *

Sophia paces impatiently as the techs scan through the addresses surrounding the park where Blakely showed up, for an apartment rented in the name of the alias a chess player gave Rick. If they find one, and it works out, she'll let her former bedmate return to his lady-love. But she'll have to be sure first. From the first time they worked together, she observed he had a talent for noticing details and making leaps of logic that ending up being credible leads. He's pissed off as hell with her right now, but he is loyal to his country. She can use that, and he'll never realize how much he's being played - or how she's playing the whole damn company.


	3. Chapter 3

Too Close

Chapter 3

Thomas Gage does not doubt that he's been betrayed. There's a mole in the CIA that's burrowed its way into his operation and is throwing up roadblocks at every turn. He'd followed Castle and Beckett and was about to get his hands on Blakely when someone took the savant out of the picture. Now he's desperately trying to find the place where Blakely set up the hole he was hiding in to make his calculations.

Gage has studied the man over the years; he knows how he operates. It's often been like a scene out of "A Beautiful Mind," but Blakely has always been right on the money. If there is a key to Pandora, there will be an indication of it at the center of whatever bizarre structure Blakely strung together.

There's one path Gage can follow. It's risky, but then he's been balanced on the knife's edge during much of his time with the CIA. He suppressed his fright and flight mechanism, long ago. A lot is hanging on Sophia and Castle. If the writer gives her a clue to Blakely's lair, she'll act on it like a shot, but Gage can't trust her - or anyone right now. He can follow her until he gets a general idea where she's going and try to get a few feet ahead. All he'll need is seconds with a camera before he can get out and let her conduct her own search. If she's on the right side, all the better, but if she isn't - he may be able to outrace her.

* * *

Sophia surveys the cords stretching across the room, connecting pieces of newspaper articles, sticky notes, and photographs. Rick had been right about Blakely pushing the bounds of sanity, but somewhere in the tangle he left behind is the answer she's seeking. Sophia almost wishes that she'd brought Rick with her. He'd probably spot it immediately. She peers around searching for the nexus where the strands meet. They converge on a picture of a little girl in a school uniform, with a note reading "Linchpin," stuck to it. What the hell could a kid have to do with toppling the world order?

Sophia doesn't have to figure that out by herself. The CIA has the techs and computing power to identify the schoolgirl. Who knows? Rick might be able to make one of his leaps. She's not about to let him go anywhere until he tries. She does have another problem. Gage is still out there somewhere. If anyone else can get a handle on Pandora, it will be him. Even after she takes the picture, she can't let him get a look at the rest of what's here. There will have to be an unfortunate explosion. Such a tragedy for all the work of one of the world's great mathematical geniuses to go up in flames.

From his hiding place, Gage watches Sophia take off. The odds are that she took whatever was most revealing in the cat's cradle that Blakeley created, with her. Before and after pictures could steer Gage in the right direction. Easily repicking the lock, he makes his second photographic survey of the wild array before hearing the faint tone that long experience tells him is activating a detonator. He dives out of the window as the shockwave hits.

* * *

"Cute kid," Castle observes, examining the picture of the little girl. "Not as cute as Alexis of course, but cute. She looks about 10, and unless she's a shapeshifter, no world menace. You're sure she's Blakely's linchpin?"

"He had her at the center of everything," Sophia insists, "but my people have run every analysis -facial recognition, what's visible of the crest on her uniform - and we've come up empty."

"And you were hoping that I could come up with something?"

"Rick, I'm out of ideas. I need an out of the box thinker. You're the most out of the box person in the building."

Rick runs his fingers over the photograph. "I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment, but I do have a thought. You explored everything about the girl, right?"

"Yes."

"How about the mountains behind her? Could you run them against the topological database?"

"Rick, that's billions of data points. The analysis could go on for hours. But it's worth a try. Thanks."

"Never mind thanking me. My box-free thinking is for the well-being of this country and the world, not for you. You've had your access to the creative machinations of my mind, and your computers can crank away. I want to go see Kate, Sophia. I want to go now!"

At that moment, Sophia doesn't want Rick studying what she's doing the way he did the vital photograph. If she lets him go, he'll be too distracted by his current muse to think anymore about his former one. And if she needs him again, she can track him. "Fine, Rick. I'll have my men take you back to the hospital."

* * *

Too impatient to wait for an elevator, Rick runs up the stairs to get to Kate's room. Jim Beckett inclines his head toward his daughter and mouths, "Sleeping."

Rick nods, walking as softly as he can on the vinyl flooring, to stand next to Kate's bed. He gazes at the rise and fall of her chest, reassuring himself that she's breathing, the way he stared down into the crib when Alexis was a baby. Slowly her eyes open. "Castle."

"I'm going to get some coffee," Jim whispers, heading for the door.

"I'm sorry," Rick murmurs. "Sophia lied to me, but you probably figured that out. I came back as soon as I could."

"She's a bitch."

"An insult to canines of the female persuasion. She manipulated me, Kate. She manipulated both of us to get what she wanted."

"Did she get it?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I did what I could to put her on a trail to whatever Blakely thought would bring about the downfall of civilization as we know it. But I have no idea what will come out of it, or even whether the whole thing is some delusion of a disturbed mind." Rick drags a chair up to the bed and plops into it. "Hey, I didn't come to talk about Sophia. How are you? What did the doctor say?"

"That I had the beginning of pneumonia, but he thinks the antibiotics are working. My blood chemistry is OK, and my oxygen levels are almost normal."

"And how do you feel?"

"Like I want to get out of here. I think the cable channels the hospital subscribes to are calculated to put patients to sleep. And Dad is hovering like a mother hen. He needs to get out of here so he can go back to work. The boys have called Dad's cell to talk to me a few times. Espo claimed they're picking up the slack while I'm malingering. I can't stand just lying here."

"So when does the doctor think you can go home?"

"As soon as he's sure my lungs are clear. Tomorrow, if I'm lucky."

"Perhaps by then, the evil cloud threatening to overcome the forces of goodness and niceness will have abated. In the meantime, can I find some way to amuse you that is superior to the SBS?"

"SBS?" Kate queries.

"Soporific Broadcasting System."

"How about poker?" Kate wonders, rolling her eyes. They probably sell cards in the gift shop."

"If they don't, I will locate the nearest available source. One thing the CIA knows how to do is restore phones. Sophia thought I might have useful notes on mine, so she had the techs put it in a drying device."

"Did you?"

"No, but at least I got it back in working order, ready to search out anything you desire."

"I think the cards will be fine, Castle."

"Then, Detective Beckett, the game will soon be afoot."


	4. Chapter 4

Too Close

Chapter 4

After too many hands of poker and too little sleep, Castle awakens to find Thomas Gage staring down at him. "If you're going to kill me, go ahead, but leave my family alone. They don't know anything."

Gage paces the floor in front of Rick's bed, absently rubbing one of many bruises he sustained escaping from Blakely's lair. "Relax. If I was going to kill you, don't you think I would have done it already? Believe it or not, I'm the good guy. And I generally don't go around killing divas - or little girls either, but your friend Sophia might."

"Sophia is not my friend," Rick insists, "at least not anymore. And why would she want to kill a little girl?"

"I don't have time for this, Castle," Gage warns, "and neither does the world. Whatever you told Sophia led her straight to Blakely's picture of the linchpin. And as soon as she figures out where to find her, that schoolgirl will be taking her lessons from the angels."

Rick shakes his head, swiping a hand over his eyes. "I don't understand."

"After all the spy stories you've written, I wouldn't think I'd have to spell it out for you. Sophia's a mole - probably a sleeper agent planted by the Soviets. She used you to get to Blakely, and she and her cell are responsible for pushing your girlfriend's car into the drink. Ever wonder what happened to Blakely's body? He wasn't dead, or at least not at first. She shot him with a new toy, knock out bullets. They release a drug that simulates death. She tortured him trying to get him to reveal the linchpin, but she tried too hard.

"That's why she went after you. You and the detective were the only ones he would have told anything. Obviously, he did, or Sophia wouldn't have that picture. So who is the girl?"

"Why the hell should I believe you? Maybe you're the mole. The N.Y.P.D. picked you up for murder. It didn't even bother you to kill that man. You could just want to know where the girl is so you can kill her too."

"You can start by thinking about your daughter and mother, asleep safe and sound upstairs. I could have easily taken either one and tortured her in front of your eyes. My guess is that you would have told me what I want to know in less than 10 seconds. But unlike Sophia, I only go after the bad guys. Think about it. Ever wonder why she didn't ask the FBI to do the domestic investigation? That's their commission, and they have a lot more resources than the N.Y.P.D. She was afraid they'd ask questions - embarrassing ones or worse. She not only lied to you, she used both you and Detective Beckett like Blakely's pawns - useful for moving the game forward but sacrificed to protect the queen."

Castle's mind flashes back to Sophia's ruthless questioning. Hardly the way he'd treat a former lover. "Even supposing that I believed you, I don't know who the linchpin is, and I don't have the tools to find out."

"And by that, I take it that Sophia does."

"She might."

"Thank you, Castle, that's helpful. And you can go check on your daughter and your mother now, but I assure you I haven't touched a hair on either of their heads."

* * *

"Ma'am, we have it," Analyst Tran reports. "The background is a mountain range in China. There is only one school nearby with a uniform that matches what's in the picture. Downloading a list of students now."

"Ganghong!" Sophia exclaims, staring at the display. "She's the daughter of Xiang Ganghong?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That makes perfect sense. He's the finance minister in China and decides how much U.S. debt they'll buy. And right now they buy a lot. If the U.S. were blamed for her death and China pulled out cold turkey, the U.S. would default on its obligations, precipitating a worldwide crisis of confidence. We have to protect her. Where is she now?"

Tran's fingers fly over the keys. "Probably on the way to the convention center. The Ganghong family landed in New York a little over an hour ago. They are attending a celebration of mysteries - with writers from all over the world, including China. Apparently, Xiang Ganghong is a rabid fan. According to the website, it's been sold out for weeks."

A smile flickers across Sophia's lips. "I know who can get us in. Check the tracker on Castle's phone. Where is he?"

"He's moving. Looks like he's leaving Cedar-Sinai hospital."

Sophia turns to the agents awaiting orders. "Intercept him - but gently. We can't use damaged goods."

* * *

"Sonofabitch," Castle hisses, glancing in his rearview mirror.

Kate shifts in the passenger seat of Rick's Mercedes. "What's wrong?'

The black SUV behind us looks like CIA issue. Sophia may be trying to pull me back in - maybe both of us."

"Can you lose it?" Kate asks.

"There's no place I can turn that they can't follow. And if they found us, they're probably tracking me. Damn! That's why Sophia gave me back my phone. She put something in it that will locate me even when it's turned off. And for all I know, she might have put a beacon on my car, too."

"Then maybe we should just see what they want," Kate suggests. "Pull into the parking lot of Pic It and Luv It."

Rick takes the turn Kate indicated, pulls into the nearest empty slot and cuts the engine. The SUV follows him in and blocks his path to pull out again. An agent knocks on the driver's side window and holds up a hood.

As Castle opens his car door, Kate points at the black fabric sack. "You're going to need two of those."

Castle holds up a restraining hand. "Kate, you shouldn't do this. They only came for me, and you just got out of the hospital."

"I'm going," Kate declares, "and if they don't take me, I'm going to report a kidnapping. Given your connection to the department and that the report is coming from a cop, it will spark a citywide manhunt. And before I do that, I'll start screaming my head off. I don't suppose the agency needs that kind of notice when operating illegally on U.S. soil."

The agent holding the hood shrugs. "We'll let Turner sort this out."

* * *

Sophia's eyes sweep up and down Kate's trim jean-clad body. "I can't say I expected you, Detective Beckett, but if having you here will keep Rick on task, all the better."

Rick steps in front of Kate, eyes blazing. "What do you want, Sophia? If you need another search strategy, I'm fresh out."

Sophia flutters her lashes in a parody of flirtation. "Not at all, Rick. What I have in mind couldn't be more in your wheelhouse. I need you to get me into a meeting of a book club - a very special book club. And having your muse along will just make your presence that much more inviting. But we have to leave now. A unique guest should be arriving at our destination shortly, a very sweet girl, and we don't want to miss her."


	5. Chapter 5

Too Close

Chapter 5

"Sure, I could get into the Mystery Conference," Castle declares. "Connelly is coordinating U.S. authors, and he still owes me for helping to promote his books. My question is why I should. If you think little Ganghong is in danger, why didn't you call the FBI and have them send a protective detail, communicate the danger to her father or both? Why do you or anyone from the CIA need to go storming in there, Sophia?"

"Rick," Sophia purrs. "I don't have time to get entangled in bureaucracy or turn this into a circus. I just want to protect that little girl."

"I could do that with one call," Kate interjects. "The N.Y.P.D. provides security for visiting dignitaries and celebrities all the time, and the Convention Center is in our jurisdiction. Dispatch could send units over there right away. I could go too. And if Rick can smooth the way with Connelly, even better. A CIA presence would raise a lot of questions that I'm sure you wouldn't want to answer. My department issue phone was ruined when someone forced my unit into the water, but I'm sure you have one I can use - or I can borrow Rick's."

"You can use mine," Agent Danberg offers.

"Fine," Sophia agrees with a brittle smile.

Kate rapidly gives her badge number and describes the potential threat before smiling triumphantly at Sophia and handing Danberg back his phone. "Help is on the way. Since Rick had to leave his car, can you get us over there or should we catch a cab?"

"I'll take you," Danberg volunteers.

* * *

"Rick, I think you're getting way too carried away with this cop thing," Connelly remarks, eying Kate, who's busily scanning the room. "Or are you here to impress your muse?"

"If I wanted to impress her, I'd show her the latest sales figures for my Nikki Heat books. The last one was two ticks above Bosch on the bestsellers list. This is real, Michael. There's some asshole out there who wants to kill an innocent little girl. We're not going to let it happen."

* * *

Sophia comes to an unwilling halt at a red light. "F*ck!" This isn't the way things were supposed to go. If Rick had just agreed to get her close enough, she could have staged an assassination by a mystery U.S. wet boy. The stocks would be crashing before the final bell. But that bitch Beckett had to get in the way. Now Sophia will have to do it the hard way, using whatever opening she can to take the little girl out and shift the blame to a handy target. Danberg will make a perfect patsy. He's been with the agency a shorter time than she has and his parents are from Eastern Europe. She can concoct a convincing scenario, particularly since he was so enthusiastic about being on the scene. He's a boy scout, anyway, always wanting to do things by the book. Very soon that book will be thrown at him - with extreme prejudice.

Gage drops back to three blocks behind Sophia. The signal from the transmitter he planted in place of the pressure sensor on her tire is coming through loud and clear, and since output would be expected from the sensor now and then, it should be a while before it raises any suspicions. Sophia might not even be paying attention. Her driving is erratic, unusual for someone who's been trained to avoid attracting attention.

Sophia's spooked. Whatever happened after she shanghaied Castle and Beckett, it threw her off her game. Good. It will be that much easier to rid the agency of a mole. Gage doesn't doubt that Sophia is on her way to kill the little girl. Whatever it takes, he's not about to allow that. But as squirrely as Sophia is acting, it may not take him much effort. Someone else may even save him the trouble.

* * *

Kate is sitting next to Rick at the end of a row where she can keep an eye on a side door. There are uniformed officers at every entrance, and anyone coming in will have to pass through a metal detector or be wanded. Still, she's uneasy - and she has to pee. Anxiety always had that effect on her when she was a kid. She thought her training as a cop overcame it, but her near-drowning weakened her control.

"You OK?" Rick asks as she tries in vain to find a semi-comfortable position.

"Fine. I'll be right back."

Rushing to the ladies room she spotted on her way in, she spies a familiar silhouette ducking into the door ahead of her. Sophia must have followed and slipped in somehow. According to Rick, suddenly appearing in supposedly secure locations is Sophia's special gift. Is she hiding out in there or does she just have to use the facilities? Kate counts to 30 before going in. If Sophia is there, she's in a booth, probably using the grade school trick of keeping her feet up to avoid being spotted.

The sounds emanating from Kate's perch will be convincing that she belongs there. She really does have to go. And she can pretend further distress with a grunt now and then. Kate's wait for something to happen, can't be longer than a few minutes, but it seems endless.

A whoosh echoes off the tile floor and walls as the door to the restroom opens. Two voices are talking in Mandarin, one in the high pitched tone of a child. The Ganghongs! From the tone of the exchange, the mother is ushering her daughter into a stall. It is not long before the clicks and slam indicate the child is emerging. Her mother says something, and there's the splash of water in a sink.

Kate hears the rasp of a lock sliding open and opens her door a crack. Sophia has something stuck in the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back. A ceramic knife. Of course. Sharp as hell but wouldn't set off a metal detector. Sophia smiles brightly, chattering something in Mandarin. Kate has no idea what Sophia said, but both the mother and daughter laugh. Sophia inches closer to the woman. Could she be planning to take out both Ganghongs?

Time for Kate to make her move. She springs, grabbing for the knife. Sophia turns, her calf whipping Kate's legs out from under her and snatching the blade.

Castle glances at the empty seat beside him. Kate's been gone too long. Could she be suffering some minor complication that the doctors at the hospital didn't expect, or could it be something worse? He can't just sit and wonder. As he spies the ladies room, he can detect the sounds of a scuffle inside. He's pushed his way into forbidden feminine domains before when Alexis became ill, and he's not about to worry about niceties now. He can always apologize later. He doesn't have anything to use as his weapon except his key to the loft. Better than nothing. He curls his hand in a fist over it, letting the point protrude from between his fingers.

Sophia startles for a fraction of a second as the door bangs open and Castle charges in. She feels the rake of metal gouging her face as Kate simultaneously kicks upward, plunging both feet hard into Sophia's midsection. As the mole doubles over, dropping the knife, Rick puts his full weight behind knocking her to the ground, and sits on her, in front of the gaping Ganghongs."

"You all right?" he asks Kate.

"Best I've felt in a long time," she grins. "If you can hold her down for a minute, I'll get some help in here."

"That," Rick responds, grinning back, "would be my very great pleasure."


	6. Chapter 6

Too Close

Chapter 6

Concealed by the gentle curve of the hallway, Gage watches as the N.Y.P.D. leads Sophia Turner off in cuffs. She'll go down for attempted murder at the very least, although the N.Y.P.D. and the FBI might find themselves the lucky recipients of tips on some of her other behavior. Whatever happens to her won't be pleasant. Depending on how much she knows about other activities by hostile forces, they might take her out. He's hoping she can be well debriefed beforehand, but he wouldn't grieve her loss. He has no stomach for traitors.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Gage turns, nodding at Danberg. "Looks like the old man was right," Sophia's would-be fall guy observes.

"The apple didn't fall very far from the tree," Gage adds. "It didn't take much of a nudge to send him in the right direction. And he got the job done. If the old man hears about it, he'll be proud."

Danberg's eyes sweep around their surroundings. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows."

* * *

Castle passes a cup of coffee across the high counter in the loft to Kate's eager hands. She closes her eyes, inhaling the fragrance before taking a sip of the dark richness. "I needed that."

"Tired? It's been a hell of a day for someone who should have been easing gently back into work. But I guess not much keeps kick-ass Kate down long."

"I don't know, Castle. When I was focused on preventing that little girl's murder, I wasn't feeling much else - except for a full bladder."

"Which turned out to be lucky."

"It did, but now that it's all over I feel like I want to sleep for a week. And the boys called. They already solved their case. Turned out it was the mistress. The victim decided to go back to his wife."

"And she went all 'Fatal Attraction' on him?"

"I don't think she boiled any bunnies, but yeah."

"An object lesson to never underestimate the power of a determined woman, even one determined to make her way to dreamland. You want me to take you home? Mother and Alexis picked up my car for me."

"That was nice of them."

"They were worried about us - specifically you. I think Alexis has developed a case of hero-worship. You're the closest person she knows to Wonder Woman."

"I wish I had the magic lasso. It would make interrogations a lot easier. But to answer your question, I wouldn't mind a lift back to my apartment. Just don't put a hood on me."

"Cover that ravishing face - I wouldn't dream of it. Detective Beckett," Castle adds with a sweeping bow. "Your carriage awaits."

* * *

"Here we are," Rick announces, delivering Kate to the door of her flat. "Sweet dreams, Kate."

Kate turns back to him as her key clicks in the lock. "Want to come in for a little while?"

Rick's eyebrows rise. "Sure. You want me to tuck you in? After years of practice, I'm pretty good at it."

Kate grabs his hand, pulling him inside and using her well-muscled derriere to shut the door behind them. "Not exactly what I had in mind." Threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, she stretches upward, pressing her lips to his.

Confusion evident on his features, Rick pulls back. "Kate, what are we doing here? If this is a thank you for pulling you from the clutches of death, I appreciate it. But if I'm going to be with you, incredible as it might be, I'm not interested in a one night stand. I love you, Kate, and that means a lot more to me than sweating between the sheets."

Kate cups his cheek, a long day's stubble rough beneath her palm. "I know. After a while, what happened when my unit went into the water started coming back to me, including what flashed through my mind when I went under. I was back bleeding out on the grass at Montgomery's funeral. And I could hear you calling to me. It was as if your voice was coming to me from another world, but that part penetrated my mind somehow and dug itself in. When I believed I was drowning, I wished that I had put a door into that wall I built around myself. There's one there now, Castle. I just hope you're willing to walk through it."

Rick lifts her in his arms, grasping her tightly against his chest. "No power in the universe could keep me out."

Kate gazes down at the tangled sheets and blankets on her unmade bed. The last time she slept in it seems like months ago. She'd been restless - angry at the attention Rick was paying to Sophia and furious at his former muse for soliciting it. When she'd hurriedly left her apartment that morning, she'd wanted nothing more than to bury herself in her work - away from Castle. Now she just wants to surround herself with the warmth of his arms.

He lays her down gently, heedless of the mess, and holds himself above her, supporting his weight on his arms. Only their lips are touching. It's not enough - not nearly enough. She pulls him down, reveling in the pressure of his body on hers. "Rick!"

"Tell me what you want, Kate."

"You, all of you."

Clothes seem to detach of their own accord, flying away in a flurry of fabric. Castle regards the woman, open and wanting beneath his gaze. She's still bruised from the plunge of her car, as is he. Sophia left a few marks on both of them, not all of the wounds visible. Still, Kate lays willing before him, and he hasn't been with anyone else - not since he became sure that only Kate could fill the holes that a life of serial abandonments had left in his soul. Their lips meet again. This time with no hesitation, no holding back, the sparks morph into a raging inferno that engulfs but doesn't consume. Fingers and mouths explore every inch, feeding the flames until the inevitable joining. They move as one, seeking their shared rhythm, struggling together to reach a final crescendo, to finally lay panting but still entwined in each other's arms.

* * *

In Kate's still-dark bedroom, Rick awakes to the siren call of the aroma of dark roast. Kate is framed in the doorway of the room, wearing his shirt, and as far as he can tell, nothing else. She extends a cup. "I thought you might like this."

Rick gratefully sips the warm liquid. "What time is it?"

"Six. You have time to get back to the loft and put out your customary before-school breakfast spread for your ravenous teenager."

"As I recall, you can turn out a sumptuous breakfast yourself, when the spirit moves you. You could come along - pass me a bowl for my beater."

"What are you going to tell Alexis?"

"Not much that she didn't figure out even before I did - that I love you and I want you in my life as more than a partner serving and protecting the citizens of the Big Apple."

"Do you have fresh strawberries and whipped cream for waffles?"

"Whipped cream, definitely. It's a staple of my diet. The market is open 24/7. We can pick up strawberries on the way."


	7. Chapter 7

Too Close

Chapter 7

"Darlings," Martha announces, downing the last of a glass of thick puce liquid, while Rick and Kate are trying to enjoy their waffles, "I will need the loft today, but I'm sure you have some despicable murderer to track down."

Castle's fork clatters to his plate. "Actually, we don't. We were planning to, um, relax a little. Why do you need the loft? Not another sodden Shakespeare production, I hope. I had to get the floors refinished after the last one."

"Relax, Richard. Your floors will be safe, but I'm dictating my memoir for my one-woman show. To give the young playwright I'm working with a true grasp of the emotional depths of the events," Martha explains, "I'll be acting them out as I go. I'll need to move freely, and your great room will provide the perfect space. But it would be rather intrusive if you two were trying to - who-who - relax."

"Intrusive to whom, Mother? And since when are you doing a one-woman show? I thought…" Scowling, Rick picks up the buzzing phone.

"Hey Castle, you know where Beckett is?" Ryan inquires. "She doesn't have a new cell yet, and I can't reach her at her apartment. We've got a weird one, just down her alley - and yours."

"Ryan," Castle mouths.

Kate nods and reaches out her hand for the phone. "Yeah, Ryan. Castle and I were just - really? OK, we'll meet you there - 20 minutes."

"Who's the victim?" Rick asks.

"Ryan says it's Little Red Riding Hood."

Martha claps her hands together. "Splendid! You two have fun tracking down the big bad wolf or whoever the culprit is, and I will pursue my art."

* * *

"You're looking a little green," Kate comments as she and Castle make the short walk to a nearby park.

"Just thinking about Mother's show. If it's based on her memoir, then I'm in it, and Mother often has a revisionist view of history. Not that there aren't things I wish I could change, but not the way Mother would do it."

Kate hooks her arm into his. "Don't worry about it. Who's going to see it anyway? She didn't say she has a producer on the hook or anything, did she?"

"No," Castle admits, "but Mother has a lot of friends and a nasty habit of luring people with free access to my liquor. When we get back to the loft, I'm going to hide my 50-year-old Scotch."

The gouges on the face and arms of the victim drive all thoughts of Martha from Rick's mind. "She was killed by a wolf!"

Lanie turns to him from where she's kneeling over the body. "Those scratches are superficial, Castle. They weren't the cause of death."

"What was?" Kate queries.

Lanie shrugs. "Don't know, but I haven't found any other marks on the body yet. There might be something under that cloak."

"Ah, the cloak of mystery," Castle murmurs.

"Well, I'll have to get under it at the lab," Lanie responds.

"I wonder what Red Riding Hood was doing in what passes for woods in Manhattan," Castle ponders. "Goodies for Grandma?"

"I don't see any, Castle," Kate notes.

"Maybe the killer stole them," Castle suggests. "Or Red was part of a game gone bad."

Kate's hair catches the sunlight as she tilts her head, looking up at him. "What kind of a game?" Castle's eyes lock on to the sudden appearance of red highlights on the brown strands. "Castle, are you here?" Kate prompts.

"Oh, right, the game. I was thinking it might have been cosplay. Dressing up as characters and acting out the story - like a lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader at a con, only you know, fairytales. Maybe some human killer had it in for her and disguised himself in Wolf's clothing."

"I suppose that's possible, Castle, but where are the other players? If there are any, they should turn up when the boys canvass the area. We need to ID the victim, let CSI find whatever evidence they can and go from there."

"I used the new app to send her prints off to the computer," Lanie interjects. "If she's in the database, we should have an ID pretty soon."

Rick raises an eyebrow at Kate. "A stroll to the precinct? It's only 12 blocks from here."

"Might as well. I have to figure out what to say on the paperwork to requisition a new unit. I'm not driving anywhere until I do. And I'll need a new department issue phone, too. Maybe your writer's mind can think of something convincing without getting into anything classified."

"I will endeavor to lend my creativity to the task."

* * *

Kate grabs eagerly for the receiver on her landline. "What have you got, Lanie?"

"Your victim is Amy Morgan. She's a lawyer. Her firm had everyone printed as part of their vetting process. Her sister and brother-in-law are coming in to formally identify the body if you want to talk to them."

"I do," Kate confirms. "I'm on my way."

Kate drops into a seat on the subway for the ride to the morgue. "This really blows, Castle. I hope the department buys your story about how my car ended up underwater."

"It was mostly true, Kate. We were shoved in by a cold-blooded murderer, I just left out the part about her being a Russian mole in the CIA, and added a few details of my own. You were clearly on case-related business, even if the FBI did claim jurisdiction after the N.Y.P.D. took Sophia into custody. I could call Bob Weldon to goose the system a little."

"No, thanks. If you get the mayor involved, Gates' head will explode. With traffic this time of day, the subway is probably faster anyway."

If it will make you feel any better, there's a vendor that hangs out along the walk from our stop to the M.E.'s building. I can buy you one of those soft pretzels you like - no salt, extra spicy mustard."

"You do know me. Thanks, Castle. That would be nice.

* * *

Clinging to her husband's hand, Leslie Thomas shakes her head. "No, Amy didn't like to dress up in costume and go running around in the park. She was too busy. Her firm had her working hundred-hour weeks. She wouldn't have had time to take a walk in the park - or anywhere else."

"Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?" Kate asks.

"No," Leslie responds. "But we didn't see much of her because of her work."

"Maybe it had something to do with one of her cases," Darren Thomas suggests. "Lots of people hate lawyers. Maybe one of them was some kook who liked costumes and went after her."

"We'll check it out," Kate allows. "Do you know of any of her friends who might know more about what Amy would have been doing dressed up as Red Riding Hood in the park?"

Leslie rubs tears from her face. "Amy had friends in high school, but I can't think of any now. She wanted to make partner, and she was willing to put in any amount of time it took to get there. There wasn't anything else."

Kate pulls a card from her pocket. "Thank you for your time, and again, I'm sorry for your loss. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to give me a call."

"An ambitious lawyer," Castle ruminates as he and Kate leave Lanie's domain. "She could make a lot of enemies, but what kind of crazy would dress her up as Little Red Riding Hood to kill her?"

"I don't know, Babe, but we're going to find out."

Castle's phone buzzes and Esposito's voice pours through the speaker as soon as Rick accepts the call. "Tell Beckett we have another one."


	8. Chapter 8

Too Close

Chapter 8

"Her name is Kristina Curtis," Lanie announces as Kate and Rick approach the body. "She was wearing a Medic-Alert bracelet - allergic to apples. The foundation had her basic information."

"A Snow White who's allergic to apples," Castle notes. "Our killer has a sense of humor - however sick. Is the apple she's holding poisoned?"

"I'll have to have CSI analyze it to find out, but offhand, I'd say no," Lanie responds. "The bite in it doesn't fit her teeth."

"Then if the killer took one to complete the picture, there should be DNA, right?" Kate guesses.

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "If there is, booyah! The lab will find it."

"But that doesn't mean we'll get a match," Kate points out. "Most people wouldn't be in the database."

Lanie look's up from examining Kristina's neck. "But the analysis might be able to give you a phenotype. And look here, there's a puncture mark. I found a similar one on Amy Morgan. They were both injected with something."

"What?" Kate asks.

"Amy's bloodwork hasn't come back yet, but it was fast-acting, I'd say, given the lack of defensive wounds on both bodies. And from the position of the mark, the killer came at them from behind. They might have gone down before they knew what was happening to them."

"Which means the killer wouldn't have required any extraordinary strength," Kate realizes. "It could have been anyone, male or female."

"I'll know more after we get results on the apple," Lanie agrees, "but so far, that's true."

"What now?' Castle asks as he and Kate leave the scene.

"We talk to Kristina's next of kin, make the notification. Or you can go back to the loft if you want to. This is really my job, Babe."

"And one at which you excel, but if I can't be at your side for the hard stuff, I'm not much of a partner."

* * *

The tears on Noah Curtis' eyes have yet to flow over his lashes, but the repressed sobbing in his chest is evident in his voice. "Kristina never mentioned an Amy Morgan. She wasn't interested in fairy tales either, except for an artist who featured them in his paintings, once - but that was years ago. I don't know why anyone would want to kill her. The staff at her gallery loved her. You should have seen the party they threw for her birthday."

"Can you think of anything unusual that happened lately?" Kate asks.

Noah's teeth bite into his lower lip. "No. It was all her regular routine at the gallery - oh wait - Friday, I called her to see if she wanted to have lunch around 1 o'clock, but she said she was meeting some people. I asked her about her meeting later, and she told me it was nothing. It's the first time I can remember her doing that. She was always so excited about art and the gallery; she loved to talk about her day, every detail."

"Do you know where this meeting was supposed to take place?" Castle queries.

Noah rakes his fingers through his hair. "No. As I said, she didn't tell me anything. But Gracie, her assistant at the gallery would know. Kristina always tells - told - her where she would be in case anything came up."

Kate scribbles "Gracie," in her notebook. "Thank you, Mr. Curtis, that's helpful."

"So you'll find the killer?" Noah asks.

"I promise you we'll do everything we can," Kate replies.

On the sidewalk outside the Curtis' apartment, Kate glances at her wrist before remembering her father's watch is being repaired. At least Castle's is waterproof. "We need to talk to Gracie. What time is it, Babe?"

"Five of five." Rick fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jacket and puts it to his lips. "Curtis Art Gallery." He quickly scrolls through the website the electronic assistant provides. "It would be closed by the time we could get there, Kate, and you'll be off-shift anyway. Want to come back to the loft with me? Mother should have finished for the day with spinning her tale and be into her late afternoon glass of red wine."

"Do you ever worry about that?" Kate wonders.

"You mean about the wine; that she might be like your father?"

"Yeah."

"I did for a while. I even asked her about it - if she could just not drink if she wanted to. She took it as a challenge and didn't touch the stuff for months, with no apparent distress. I guess we won the genetic lottery. We can take it or leave it. It's just more fun to take it. One unfortunate fallout of mother's dry time is that was when she developed her taste for that pond scum she refers to as youthenizing smoothies. She's been trying to get me to drink them ever since."

Kate bumps her hip against his. "I don't know why. If you acted much younger, you'd be installing a ball pit in the middle of the loft."

"I've thought about it, but it would interfere with my laser tag routes."

"Of course," Kate teases. "I should have realized that. But I want to go back to my apartment. I haven't touched my project there since we took our dive."

"You mean your mother's murder?"

"Uh-huh."

"Any new leads?"

"Nothing, but I can't let that stop me from trying."

Castle clears his throat and points to a bench in a nearby pocket park. "Kate, we need to talk about something. Let's sit down."

"Castle, you're sweating. What's going on?"

"You remember when you came back to work after you were shot? We checked out that fire and the fire inspector, but it turned out to be a dead-end."

"How could I forget that? The investigation into my shooting and my mother's murder fell apart. I haven't had a decent lead since."

"And that's why you're alive, Kate. I got a call from a man, an old friend of Montgomery's. Before Montgomery was killed, he sent his friend a package - evidence against the man who ordered your mother's death and yours. The friend struck a deal. He wouldn't release the evidence if there were no more attempts on you. But there was one proviso. You had to stay away from investigating your mother's murder."

"Then why was I shot?"

"The package didn't reach Montgomery's friend in time to prevent it."

How do you figure into all of it, Castle?"

"I was supposed to keep you away from the case."

"If you love me, how could you do that, Rick?"

"Because I do love you. I wanted to protect you. But I didn't even have to try and steer you away from anything. You had no leads. You still don't. But if you do find something, you have to understand the danger of pursuing it. I couldn't stand to lose you, Kate."

Kate paces the grass in front of the bench. "I don't intend to get killed. But I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for the hammer to fall, either. And you did have a lead - Montgomery's friend. He knows who the man who targeted my mother and me is. Who is he?"

"I have no idea, Kate. His number was blocked. And he was acting like he thought he was Deep Throat – Woodward and Bernstein's source, not the woman in the porn movie. He made me meet him in an underground garage, and he stayed to the shadows. I never saw his face clearly."

"Did you notice anything about him at all, Castle? There must have been some clue."

"Chess, like Blakely - I think he plays chess. He talked about times when a pawn is more powerful than a queen. And he sounded older like he and Montgomery were contemporaries."

"Then Evelyn Montgomery might know who he is. She'd be at work now, but she'll be home with the kids tonight. We could go see her."

"Kate, do you think it's fair to bring Roy's death back on her like that?"

"Castle that man knows who was behind Roy's death, too. I'm willing to bet Evelyn will want to know as much as I do."


	9. Chapter 9

Too Close

Chapter 9

"Damn straight!" Evelyn Montgomery declares. "If there's someone who knows who was behind the slime that killed Roy, I want to help you find him. A man who likes chess about Roy's age," she muses. "Roy didn't play much; he preferred your poker games, Rick. But he told me he used to when he was in Nam. He had a buddy he called Smitty that he played with. He said it helped keep his head straight back then. He invited Smitty to the wedding, so I would have put his real name on the guest list. It's in our wedding remembrance book. I think there might be a picture of Smitty in there too. I'll get it."

Kate turns to Castle as Evelyn leaves the room. "This could be the break I was waiting for."

"And you're still mad at me for keeping it from you."

"I don't know what I feel, Castle, except that I need to see the investigation through, whatever it takes."

"Then I'm with you, Kate, but if we're going to keep the man behind all the murders from coming after you, we have to be careful."

"Let him come! Roy is dead! Everyone else associated with the case is dead, but I'm still here."

Rick reaches for her hand. "But you almost weren't, Kate. Remember I told you that you died in that ambulance - twice. You almost died on the operating table too. You've still got the scars. The next bullet could finish the job. The bastard isn't worth dying for, Kate. The only way you defeat him is by holding on to your life."

"I've got it, " Evelyn announces from the hallway outside the room. Kate takes the leather-bound album and opens it on a nearby table. She runs her finger over the names on the guest list. "There's a Michael Smith! Evelyn, where's the picture?"

Evelyn flips through the pages of photos. "Here he is, talking to Roy. Take it if you need it."

Kate pulls the photograph from it's mounting. "I'll get it back to you. Thanks, Evelyn."

"Never mind that. You just find the sonofabitch who took my husband from me."

From the passenger seat of Rick's car, Kate stares at the wedding picture. "This was 30 years ago, Castle. Roy had a full head of hair and a mustache. This Michael Smith could look completely different too."

"There's an app for that," Castle announces. "Alexis dug it up for Mother when she was wishing she still looked like she did when she was an ingenue. Alexis aged several of the current young stars gracing the screen and the stage. Mother came out looking good in comparison. There's a copy of the program on my laptop. I've used it to imagine the future of some of my younger competition in the literary realm."

"Don't tell me you used it to run Alex Conrad."

Castle reddens. "Only after he sent you the muffins. But anyway, we can get an idea of what Michael Smith looks like today that might help us track him down. His appellation isn't exactly unique. Pity he couldn't have been named Barfknecht."

"Ugh! Who would want to be stuck with a name like that?"

"Only the stoutest of egos. Probably why - fun fact - it's one of the least common names in the United States. I've been saving it for just the right character. But about Smith, could you run facial recognition on an aged image?"

"Not off the record."

"Then we'll have to do it the hard way, putting 'Michael Smith' and chess into search engines and hoping we get lucky with the images that come up. Or ooh - we could try YouTube. If Smith was in a tournament, especially if he's good, a fan might have uploaded a video."

* * *

Rick feeds the photograph of Smith and Montgomery into his scanner and crops Montgomery from the resulting image before launching his app. "Silver hair and wrinkles, but recognizable. I'll print out copies for reference, and we'll see if we can pull Mr. Smith from the shadows. YouTube. Michael Smith. Chess. Search. Wow! There are pages of them! I'll put them up on the big screen, and maybe I should make some popcorn."

"I'm not hungry, Castle. Let's just watch the video."

* * *

Castle shifts uncomfortably on the couch, rubbing at the burn in his eyes. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea, Kate. I … wait, I think that's him!"

Kate springs from her perch on the edge of a sofa cushion. "You're right, Castle, it is! What tournament was that?"

"The finals, last year at the Upper Manhattan Chess Center. Not exactly a low rent neighborhood. Whatever this Michael Smith does, he must be pretty successful. Lawyer maybe, given his success at making a deal."

"If he is, he'd be listed with the Bar Association."

Castle grabs his laptop from his desk. "There's a Michael Smith who's a partner in Weber, Smith, and Murtry. I'll check the website. There are usually pictures or at least bios of the partners. Yes! Here it is. No picture, but Smith was in Vietnam the same time Roy would have been there, and it says he's a high-level chess player in and out of the courtroom. This has to be him, Kate."

"We can't just walk into his office, Castle. I have no official case, and it would raise too many questions. And we have the fairytale murders. We have to hit the Curtis gallery as soon as it opens in the morning."

"I know, Kate, and pursuing the fairytale killer will look normal for you. But we'll figure out a way to meet with Smith that won't put you back in the crosshairs." Rick checks the time at the bottom of the screen. "It's 1 a.m. You really should get some rest."

"So should you, Castle, but right now I don't know if I can close my eyes."

"Me either, but maybe we can try together."

* * *

Gracie Fallbrook dabs at her eyes with an already damp tissue. "Why would anyone want to kill Kristina? She gave so many artists a break. She was a good person."

Kate nods sympathetically. "I'm sure she was, Gracie. And we're trying our best to find out, but we need to know where Kristina went at 1 o'clock last Friday."

"She said she was meeting a couple of old friends for lunch."

"Where would she have met them?" Castle asks.

"Someplace where she could get a vegan option. She stopped eating meat after we had a showing of photographs of a slaughterhouse. So did I. She was only gone for about an hour, so it couldn't have been anywhere too far from here. Probably New Spring. It's only five blocks away."

Kate hands Gracie her card. "Thank you. If you think of anything else, day or night, give me a call."

Gracie wipes her eyes again and nods.

Castle studies the menu displayed in the window of New Spring. "Not exactly my choice of cuisine."

"Mine either," Kate admits, "but we're not here to eat, just to find out about Kristina's meeting."

"If she was a soft-hearted as Gracie said, she was probably a decent tipper," Castle assumes. "A server would remember that. I waited tables before I started getting royalties for 'In a Hail of Bullets.' I always remembered."

"I can't picture you as a waiter, Castle."

"I wasn't bad at it, and I picked up a few pointers from a short-order cook on how to make pancakes. That's come in pretty handy."

"Having tasted your pancakes, Babe, I think that cook deserves a gold star."


	10. Chapter 10

Too Close

Chapter 10

New Spring is less pretentious than Castle expected it would be. The booths along the walls of the dining room lend a level of privacy Kristina might have preferred for a meeting. Flashing her badge at the hostess, Kate asks to see the manager.

The only slightly harried young woman who appears at the hostess' wave, nods at Kate's question. "Friday at 1 p.m. Felicity, Jesse and Lance were on that shift. Jesse's just getting changed to come on now."

"I'd like to talk with her," Kate requests.

"Fine, the manager agrees, but try not to take too long. We get a midmorning rush of people looking for something besides sugar shock on their breaks."

"These folks just have no appreciation for the finer things in life," Castle mutters as the manager goes to get Jesse. "What could be more stimulating than a Danish, a bear claw, or better still, a cronut? It's way too early in the day for leafy greens. I'm craving something sweet just thinking about it."

"Keep your mind off your stomach for a few minutes, Castle, and we can stop at the bakery down the block on the way back to the car," Kate counsels.

Jesse regards the picture of Kristina Curtis on Kate's new phone. "Sure, I recognize her. She's in here a lot but usually by herself. She likes to get a quick salad and go back to work. But she was here with two other women on Friday. They got a little loud like they were having an argument or something."

On a hunch, Kate displays a picture of Amy Morgan. "Was this one of them?"

"Yeah, it was."

"What did the other one look like?" Castle asks.

"Dark, kind of exotic looking. We might have her name; she paid with a credit card. I remember it because it had a Disney princess on it. I asked her, and she said she always wanted to be a princess. I can go check the records."

"Good move asking about Amy," Castle whispers as Jesse walks away.

"I figured there had to be a connection between the two women, Castle. And if they were arguing about something, it couldn't have been a casual meeting."

"Do you think whatever they were arguing about got them killed?" Castle wonders.

"It's possible, but other than the third woman's ambition to be a princess, I have no idea what the fairytale connection might be."

"I've got it," Jesse calls, coming toward them. "Her name was Charlotte Boyd. She had a veggie burger and a cranberry fizz. This is a copy of the receipt."

Kate takes the slip of paper. "Thanks, Jesse. I appreciate it."

Castle grimaces as they leave New Spring. "A veggie burger. Now I really want something at the bakery."

"I'm going to call the boys to run Charlotte Boyd, but me too," Kate confesses. "If we're going to see Smith later, I could use some chocolate."

Rick reaches for her hand. "That makes two of us."

* * *

"Detective Beckett," Captain Gates calls as Kate and Rick are getting off the elevator.

"Yes, Sir."

"I got a call from the Support Services Bureau. It's going to take a while for the paperwork to go through to get you a new vehicle, but they have one that you can use in the interim. They're holding it for you to pick up."

"Thank you, Sir. I can go get it right now."

Castle eyes the pink Cadillac. "What was the N.Y.P.D. doing with this?"

Kate reaches for the handle of the pastel gas guzzler. "You know, Castle, I remember the case. A Mary Elizabeth cosmetics saleswoman was using her in with her customers to case their places. She'd talk them up and figure out when they wouldn't be around so she could break in and steal what she wanted. The car was seized because it was used in the commission of crimes."

"Wow, I'm glad Mother doesn't use Mary Elizabeth. She warned Alexis away from it too; said she tried one of their sunscreens once and broke out in a rash."

"Good to know."

"The car does have a great back seat," Castle notes wiggling his eyebrows. "Lots of room."

"Castle, right now prom night - if I'd ever gone to one - maneuvers are the last thing I'm worried about. Let's get back to the precinct. The boys should have something on Charlotte Boyd by now."

"When we curled up together last night I thought we were OK, but you're still mad, aren't you?"

"We were. We are. I'm not mad, exactly. I understand why you did what you did, but I told you, I still have to process it. And I want to get through what we need to do on the case so we can talk to Michael Smith. I just need a little time, Castle."

"I get it, Kate. And I'm not going anywhere. When you're finished - processing - I'll be right here."

* * *

Ryan waves a sheet of paper as Kate comes into the bullpen. Esposito and I finally got through to the credit card company. We were on hold so long we had to take turns. I memorized every note of the music they played in between ads for extra services. We got an address for Charlotte Boyd."

"Home or work?"

"Both. She's a real estate agent, the kind of properties only someone like Castle could afford, but she works out of her house. Riverdale, the good part."

"The pink purveyance will look right at home there," Castle comments.

* * *

"This is what Amy and Kristina and I were talking about," Charlotte explains, showing Kate and Rick a snapshot.

Kate taps her finger on the photograph. "Amy Morgan is dressed as Red Riding Hood, Kristina Curtis is dressed as Snow White, and you're dressed as Sleeping Beauty. And there's a boy in the picture too. You all look young."

"We were," Charlotte agrees. "It was our senior year in high school. We went to a rave with a fairytale theme. But we hadn't seen each other since, until last Friday."

"Why is that?" Castle asks. "It looks like you were friends."

"We were, but something happened. Owen…"

"The boy's name is Owen?" Kate prompts.

"It was, Owen Thomas, but he's dead."

"Amy's brother-in-law is Darren Thomas," Castle recalls. "Any relation?"

"Owen's brother. That night, Owen brought some pills to the rave. He took some and gave the rest to us. We were flying, and we were scared. Amy had some stuff she said would even us out, and she was driving us all home. Amy and Kristina and I were OK, but Owen went crazy. He was hallucinating. He thought Amy was a wicked witch or something and kept going after her. If we hadn't made him get out of the car, he would have killed us. But I guess the drugs were too much. He ran out in front of Amy's car."

"And she hit him," Kate finishes.

"It was an accident. She couldn't help it. She got the car fixed, and we all agreed to keep quiet about it and never see each other again. But last week we all received copies of that picture. See the date, 05/06/05? That was the night of the rave. And whoever sent us the pictures is demanding $50,605 from each of us as blackmail. That's why we met, to talk about paying it or going to the police. Amy said that we'd have to pay it, or all our lives would be ruined. Kristina didn't want to. She said she wanted to use her money to expand her gallery, but in the end, we decided we'd pay. We did, but the blackmailer must have killed Amy and Kristina anyway. And now he's probably going to be after me."

"We won't let that happen," Kate assures her. "We'll make sure you get protection."

"Kate, it has to be Darren Thomas," Castle insists, climbing into the passenger seat of Kate's unit. "Revenge for the death of his brother."

"It could be, Castle, but right now we have no proof."


	11. Chapter 11

Too Close

Chapter 11

"So, what are you going to do?" Castle asks.

Kate reaches for the door handle of the pink Caddy. "I'm going to put a protective detail on Charlotte and surveillance on Darren Thomas. Then we're going to walk this picture into CSI and see what the lab people can tell us."

"I can tell you something right now," Castle declares. "That picture came from old film, recently developed. The finish is fresh and unmarred, but the color is all off. That happens when the chemicals age. I used that little factoid in a story once."

"I don't remember."

"It was written out in the final edit."

"There's a code on the back. If you're right about it being recently developed, we should be able to find out who the customer was. There's got to be a database or something. Carl at CSI would know. His mind is almost as full of weird stuff as yours is."

"I will choose to take that as a compliment."

* * *

Carl absently pulls on his bowtie as he regards the code on the photo. "I recognize this. The 'PN' is 'Photos Now,' the franchise that works out of the drug supermarts. The rest is the store number and the date it was developed. We'll check the photo for prints and DNA, but Detective Beckett, you can get the address of the store that matches that number from the Supermart website.

"I can do that right now," Castle chimes in, pulling out his phone. "Looks like it's on Columbus Avenue around 73rd Street."

"Let's go, Castle. The picture was only developed two weeks ago. With any luck, the store still has surveillance video."

* * *

Castle points to a figure on the big screen in Tech. "That's Darren Thomas. I knew it, Kate! He has to be our fairytale killer."

"Right now all we know is that he's our fairytale blackmailer, Castle, but I'll send the boys to bring him in."

"That will take a while. I can think of a productive way to spend the time while we wait."

"Uh-oh, I know that look, Babe. What kind of mice are running around in your head?"

"The kind that want to squeeze under the door and squeak at Michael Smith. Look, Kate, you said we can't just walk into his office with no official case, but what if we make an appointment to consult him on a business matter?"

"What business matter, Castle?"

"I couldn't write Nikki Heat without you. Everyone knows that. We ask him to draw up some kind of an agreement so that you get a percentage of the royalties - as a writing partner of sorts. You and I could even squabble about it a little bit to draw him in, bring in the details of your mother's death I used in the books. And we watch his reaction for an opening to bring up the real question - what he knows about the master behind the movements of the pawns."

"Castle, you're not really planning to give me a slice of your royalties are you?"

"Why not? It's not as if you don't deserve it, Kate. As I said, everyone knows I couldn't write the books without you. But if you're game, let's play out our gambit and see where it goes. I can call for an appointment right now, and we can practice what we're going to say - unless you have a better idea."

"Maybe we should enlist the services of your mother's playwright."

Castle scrubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. "I suspect that man has more than enough to handle right now."

* * *

Kate pushes a laptop with the Drug Supermart video in front of Darren Thomas. "This is you, Darren. You sent the pictures you developed to Amy Morgan, Kristina Curtis, and Charlotte Boyd and blackmailed them. But that wasn't enough, was it? You killed Amy and Kristina. When were you going to kill Charlotte?"

"I didn't kill anyone!" Darren protests. "I could never kill Amy. You saw how much losing her hurt Leslie. I could never do that to my wife."

"But yet, you had no scruples about blackmail," Castle accuses.

"They deserved it!" Darren insists. "I was cleaning out our attic, and I found an old camera that belongs to Leslie. I had the film developed as a surprise for her. But when I saw the picture, I knew those women were involved in Owen's death, but they all went on to lead happy and successful lives. Why shouldn't they have paid for what they did? But I just asked for money. I never laid a hand on Amy or Kristina."

"You really expect us to believe that?" Kate presses, as her phone dings with a text. Her eyes widen as she glances at the screen and she gestures for Castle to follow her outside the interrogation room.

"What's going on, Kate?"

"That text was from Lanie. She said the DNA the lab extracted from the apple was female – mixed black and white, probably between five-five and five-seven with straight hair.

"Charlotte!" Castle realizes.

"Right, and both victims were killed with ketamine. It's a street and party drug. With the circles Charlotte moves in, I doubt she would have had any trouble getting it."

"Sounds like it's time for her protective detail to change functions and make an arrest. Instead of a prince, Sleeping Beauty should find herself a good lawyer."

* * *

Smith leans back in his leather chair, regarding Rick through narrowed eyes. "Mr. Castle, usually authors seek to protect their royalties, not give them away. You realize that Ms. Beckett has no legal rights here. You didn't use her name or any form of it, and you didn't use her image. As I understand it, the background you gave both Nikki Heat and her mother, differ substantially from the reality."

"That's true, counselor," Castle agrees, "but Kate is my inspiration, my muse. And if her mother's death hadn't unfolded the way it did, there would be no Nikki Heat books. But then you know that, don't you? Please don't try to deny it. I didn't see your face, but your voice is quite recognizable, as is the cadence of your speech."

Kate lunges forward in her chair, grasping the edge of Smith's desk. "You know who's behind my mother's death, and you're going to tell me."

"If I do that, I'm signing your death warrant," Smith insists. "You should take a lesson from what happened to Roy Montgomery, Ms. Beckett. The man you seek is shielded by layers of power, money, and influence. You go after him, and he'll have you taken down before you get anywhere close. You're young. You could have a long life ahead of you, and you should live it."

"I can't do that knowing that he's out there. I need a name, and I need the evidence that Roy Montgomery sent you - or I'll make sure that every criminal case your firm handles gets a level of scrutiny that will slow you to a crawl. Do you really want to do that to yourself, to your partners, to your clients? You are shielding a murderer, Mr. Smith, one responsible for the death of your friend. If you think you owe Roy Montgomery anything, you'll help me send his killer - and my mother's - to hell."


	12. Chapter 12

Too Close

Chapter 12

"You're really determined to commit suicide, aren't you?" Smith asks.

"No!" Kate insists. "I want to live, and I can't do that with that sonofabitch out there. I don't give a sh*t how much influence he has. When the most powerful overreach, they fall. And I'm not leaving this office without Roy's evidence."

"You can believe her," Castle assures Smith. "I've never known a more determined person in my life, and if you'd seen my mother claw her way from unknown to diva, you'd understand what that means."

"It's your funeral, Ms. Beckett, and I mean that quite literally." A panel slides aside as Smith pushes a button under his desk, revealing a wall safe. Pushing heavily out of his chair, he traverses the short distance across the room and works the combination.

The file Smith removes from his safe and hands to Kate is full of newspaper clippings, notes, and financial records. She regards the caption under a photograph from a story that headlined The Ledger. "Senator William Bracken."

Castle stares at the image. "Kate, I've met this guy. After I lost a bet, Weldon dragged me to a political fundraiser. Bracken had the crowd in the palm of his hand, fawning all over him. He reminded me of Mother's second husband, the one who stole her life savings: a charming and charismatic persona hiding a total slimeball. He embodies Twain's characterization of a person who fools some of the people all of the time."

"Where was the fundraiser, Castle?" Kate queries.

"Barron Tower, stomping ground of the ostentatiously rich, and would-be rich."

"So, he presses the flesh in the city."

"He has to. This is where the votes are - and where his constituents are trying to beg considerations, in exchange for their support." Castle thumbs dance over the keyboard of his phone. "He has other fancy functions coming here, Kate. If you can use Roy's research to put together enough for a warrant, I could get you close enough to slap the cuffs on him without his goons interceding."

"Be aware, Ms. Beckett," Smith warns, "men like that have eyes and ears everywhere. If he gets the slightest whiff of what you're doing, he will send his people after you, and you may not survive the next bullet."

Kate presses her lips together, squeezing Rick's hand. "If he does, this time, I'll be ready."

The alarm on Rick's phone emits a teeth-grinding call to attention. "That's for Mother's presentation of her personal fairytale. If I don't show up, I'll never hear the end of it."

Kate lays a hand on his knee. "At least there won't be any murders in this one."

"I wouldn't be too sure. But until she's basking in the glow of her triumph, we'll never have free access to my fact-finding resources. And if there are hostile eyes on the force, we're going to need them."

* * *

Rick stops short to take in the scene as he unlocks the door of his loft. The furniture is totally rearranged to form a theater, and the counter of his kitchen is an open bar. He notes with slight satisfaction that his mother hasn't managed to find his good Scotch, but she has appropriated one of his bottles of Châteauneuf du Pape. If Mother can get the urge to act out her version of her life story out of her system, it will be worth it.

Sipping on a drink he wishes had a higher alcohol content; Rick squirms in his chair as Martha Rodgers describes the obstacles single motherhood threw on her path to stardom. Her account is hyperbolic but has a few elements of truth. He wasn't really born on the subway. He knows that for sure from the stories of one of Mother's old friends who drove her to the hospital, but Martha's description of the dimensions of the tiny apartment they lived in during some of her most impecunious times is reasonably accurate. And her portrayal of the neighbor who objected to her voice projection exercises is right on the money. But all in all, Rick is taking the brunt of the story. He was a handful - but not that much of a handful - was he?

Glancing sidelong at Kate, Rick can see her expression alternate between amusement and sympathy. He can only hope that sympathy wins out. The applause is thunderous, possibly due to the booze and hors d'oeuvres that he expects will result in a sizable catering bill. Alexis, in her dual role as stage manager and cheerleader, presents her grandmother with two dozen roses.

The audience departs slowly, grabbing leftover mini quiches for the road and downing the last of their drinks. Yawning, Rick decides that he can return the furniture to its former configuration in the morning.

Slipping into bed and pulling the covers over his head seems almost irresistible, but Kate shows no signs of drowsiness. The heels of her boots click against the hardwood floor as she strides determinedly toward his office, drops into his chair and flips open his laptop. "What's your password for Westlaw?"

"AtticusFinch, one word, names capitalized. Why? What are you looking for?"

"Some of Roy's notes were about the cases that Bracken threw as D.A. I want to see who was involved and who the major players were. The statute of limitations is long past on what he did back then, but if some of those figures are still active, it may give me a clue to current his connections."

"You want some help?" Rick asks.

"Sure, but I have your computer."

"I can use my tablet and Bloomberg Law. The two of us can look at twice as much, twice as fast."

* * *

Downing the last of his second cup of coffee, Castle rechecks his notes. There is one family name that pops up consistently - Moss. Young lawyer, Bill Moss, was counsel in many of the cases. That jibes with the mention of kingmaker, Ben Moss, in some of Roy Montgomery's clippings. The Mosses have been rumored to be hip deep in unsavory operations, including the drug trade, for years, but nothing's ever stuck. "Kate, I think I have something."

"So do I, Castle. Remember when McCallister threw us Vulcan Simmons, and we decided he was just a red herring?"

"I'm not about to forget that, Kate. I told Roy I'd pick up the tab for the mirror you threw that arrogant bastard against."

"I didn't know that, Babe, thanks."

"You were in no condition to cope with something as trivial as replacing glass. All you could think about was dragging the truth out of Lockwood."

"When he could talk again. You did a pretty good job smashing his mouth in."

"One of the more pleasurable moments of my life, a cracked knuckle notwithstanding. But what about Simmons?"

"While Bracken was D.A., some of his dealers walked on technicalities or got plea deals that were a slap on the wrist. But Bracken went after the other dealers in town full force."

"If Bracken was working with Simmons, that fits with what I found about his involvement with the Mosses. If their money is coming from drugs, Simmons could be their man on the street. Bracken would keep the money flowing, probably so a cut of it could end up in his campaign coffers. Your mother got too close in two ways. She went after Simmons' operations in Washington Heights, and she was digging into Bracken's frame of Pulgatti. So Bracken hired Coonan to take her out."

"But how do we prove it, Castle?"

"That must be why Roy had the financial records. Money led us to the fire investigator slash arsonist - about whom you were absolutely right. Money will lead us to his boss."

A/N My newest book, "Sarah, an Autistic Among the Lying NTs," is out. It's available on Amazon as a paperback and as an e-book almost everywhere. The publisher is Black Pawn Press. Really. This is the most important book I've ever written. No vampires."


	13. Chapter 13

Too Close

Chapter 13

"Most of what was in Roy's financial records was old, Castle. They date back to when Bracken was D.A."

"I know," Castle acknowledges, "but you got access to Coonan's records when you were investigating his brother's murder, right? Any transfers that Bracken made to him around that time would be reasonably current. We should be able to trace them - and possibly connect them to older entries. Since Coonan was a hired killer, his other victims are still open cases, aren't they?"

"You're right, Castle, they are. Roy Montgomery made sure I backed off - probably to keep me from being killed. The question of who hired Coonan for his other killings, including my mother, is still out there. And there's no statute of limitations on murder. But Gates will want to keep me away from looking into it too. You know how she is about emotional involvements."

"So you don't ask. Cops can work on cold cases in-between active ones, can't they? And the fairytale murders are closed. You don't have to make a point of going after your mother's killer. How about the other four? When Charles Murray noticed the commonalities that pointed to Coonan, that opened the whole thing up again. If the 12th gets credit for reclosing all those homicides, I can't see Gates kicking too much. And if she does, Weldon can calm her down."

"You're right, Castle. I think I'm beginning to see a little light at the end of the tunnel."

"That could be the sun over the horizon. It will be up in a few hours. We should try to get some sleep."

"I don't know if I can, Babe."

"You know, there is a time-honored method for engendering relaxation. And I would be more than happy to offer my services as a participant."

"You're offering to service me, Castle?"

"I want to make love with you, Kate. I know you're still processing the whole Smith thing, but I think we both need it, and I'm hoping that you want it."

Kate holds out her hand for him to take. "I do."

* * *

Kate groans as she fumbles to turn off the alarm on her phone. Even after Castle fell asleep, his lips curled upward in a smile; she lay awake until - God, two hours ago. She's functioned on less sleep, and she wants to make it to the precinct early enough to face as few questions as possible, getting into the cold case archives.

Castle yawns, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it, Kate?"

"Six. I need to make an early start, but you could go back to sleep for a little while."

"Not really. Alexis is exhibiting at the school science fair this morning, and she has an exquisitely detailed and massive poster display. I promised I'd drive her and it to school and help her carry it in. She wants to have everything set up before classes start. That also means preparing an early and fortifying breakfast, so I should get moving too."

"Castle, sometimes I forget just how much time you devote to your family. Between your mother and Alexis, working with me and your writing, you're almost doing triple duty."

"And it is my very great joy to do so. I am, however," Rick explains, "a champion catnapper. You're always welcome to join me."

"I'd like that - if I have the chance. So, meet me at the 12th after you deliver Alexis?"

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

* * *

It's been a long day. Kate rotates her shoulders to work out the kinks, as she attempts to make some sense out of page after page of deposits into Coonan's accounts in the month before Johanna Beckett's murder. "These can't all be for killing people. He would have wiped out half the city."

"Probably drug money," Castle surmises. "Jonny Vong may not have been his only avenue for importation."

"And once a shipment was distributed and cut, it would have been worth a lot more," Kate agrees, "but this many deposits would have to have come from a whole network of dealers. I can't see him competing with Vulcan Simmons or the Moss operation. Other parts of the country, maybe, or overseas."

"Or perhaps he was selling something else that was a lot easier to transport," Castle suggests. "Information. Think about it, Kate. Coonan had connections in Asia, connections in New York, and connections in DC. He worked for Bracken, and God knows who else, and he was completely without scruples, a sociopath. How else could he have killed his own brother? He could not only make money selling intelligence; he could use it to keep his clients from flipping on him."

Kate's chair scrapes on the floor as she springs out of her seat. "So, he might have had more on Bracken than Roy did!"

"Where would his things be?" Castle wonders. "Obviously, his brother didn't inherit them."

"I don't know Castle. The courts might have assumed that everything he had was the product of ill-gotten gains and ordered it seized. I've never had to search disposition records, but I'm sure they exist. The red tape would be massive."

"I know I guy who would know. One of the authors, Tarleton Cramer, who joins our poker game occasionally, is an auction hound. He uses that stuff in his stories. He draws inspiration from items criminals are forced to surrender."

"What kind of stuff does he buy?" Kate asks.

"Old cars, houses, collectibles. He found a great comic collection once. I was jealous as hell until he let me buy some of it from him. Anyway, he keeps track of all the sales and what's upcoming. If there's any Coonan stuff to be had, he'd know where it is."

"Can you give him a…?"

Esposito sticks his head into the conference room. "Sorry to break up - whatever this is. We have a body. One Odette Morton."

Castle's mouth drops open. "From Night of Dance?"

"Yeah. You know her, man?" Esposito queries.

"Only from the screen. Her hip motion in the samba…" Castle stops short at the dark look from Kate. "Um, Mother had a fling with a Latin dance champion turned choreographer. She pointed out how well Odette moves."

"I'm more into salsa," Esposito responds, executing steps with an imaginary partner.

Kate clears her throat. "Where's the crime scene, Espo?"

"At the Night of Dance studio. Odette didn't come out on cue, and the production assistant who went to look for her found her dead in her dressing room."

"Too bad," Castle offers. "She lost the match by default. Santino will probably get the trophy, and he doesn't deserve it. He never fully extends his lines - that's what Mother says."

"Martha would know about extending lines," Kate quips. "Let's go, Castle. Can you make that, um, call we talked about while we're en route?"

"I will do my best to avail myself of the knowledge of my source."

* * *

"What did Cramer say?" Kate asks as Castle stuffs his phone back in his jacket pocket.

"Tarley thinks that Coonan's property is still sitting in a warehouse. With a case like that, it can take years to wind up the paperwork, and the stuff isn't sold until it's officially released."

"A warehouse, where?"

"Brooklyn, under the aegis of the City Property Clerk's Office. Tarley said that everything would be logged, and as a cop involved with the case, you shouldn't have any trouble getting a look at the listings."

"Then, I hope we find Odette's killer soon, so I can do it."

"I'm sure inquiring dance lovers across the country will want the culprit nailed as well."


	14. Chapter 14

Too Close

Chapter 14

Grooves flank the bridge of Kate's nose. "She died of a shot to the heart, and no one heard anything?"

"They set off pyrotechnics at the beginning of the show," Castle explains. "If the killer timed the shot just right, they would have covered the sound."

Kate shoves a stray lock of hair off her cheek. "Lanie, does that correlate with the time of death?"

"It does," the M.E. confirms. "The body was still warm when I got here, and the liver temperature sets death at 7 p.m. They started the show an hour earlier today because the network is doing a special on March Madness. I'd just come through the door and turned it on when I got the call."

A grin lights Castle's face. "You watch A Night of Dance, too?"

"My favorite show," Lanie confesses. "I took eight years of ballet. I wanted to be a dancer."

"What happened?" Castle asks.

"The girls happened."

"So you became a doctor. Sounds like things worked out," Kate offers.

"Yeah, but I still miss the discipline of the dance. Sometimes I yell at the screen. Santino never fully extends his lines."

Rick triumphantly turns to Kate. "Told you."

Kate rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Can we get back to the case, please? We need to talk to the cast, the crew, the audience, anyone who might have seen anything," she adds to Ryan and Esposito. "Lanie, as a fan of the show, who would have had the most to gain by Odette's death?"

"Santino," Castle and Lanie reply simultaneously.

* * *

"Sh*t, I didn't need to kill Odette," Santino insists, "I was beating her hands down. I have a hundred thousand more followers on Twitter than she does, and my dances on YouTube get three times as many likes. The woman was off her game anyway - showing up for practice late and cutting back on her rehearsal time. She barely made it for blocking."

"You think she was falling back into her spoiled rich-girl ways?" Castle wonders.

Santino's ruffled sleeves flutter as he shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, but the way she was acting, she couldn't have won."

* * *

"Funny you should ask about spoiled rich-girl ways," Kate comments as she and Castle are leaving the studio. "You're not exactly destitute, Castle."

"If you listened to the part of Mother's story that approached reality, before Black Pawn published 'In a Hail of Bullets,' she and I were pretty broke. I ate a lot of ramen my freshman year of college, and I grew up seeing how the other half lives. I knew the kids of the actors who were stars when Mother was struggling. I was the scholarship kid at the elite schools. I saw spoiled rich girls and boys up close and personal. That's why, excluding emergencies, and the occasional shopping spree with Meredith or Mother, Alexis has to stay within her allowance. I don't want her to feel entitled because Daddy writes bestsellers."

"You're doing a good job with her, Babe. She's a great kid."

"My prowess as a father aside, do you think Santino did it?"

"No, but we'll see what the tests for gunshot residue on his hands and clothes show. I can't rule him out on the basis of my feelings, no matter how fast I want to get through this case."

"I know. The formidable Kate Beckett is not about to let Odette's killer slip through her fingers, even to catch a greater villain."

* * *

"Neither one of us was anywhere near a dinner plate tonight," Castle notes as he lets Kate and himself into the loft. "Omelets are easy. I could make us a couple, and we could pair them with a little of that red wine you like so much, to decompress. It would make it easier to catch up on the rest we didn't get last night."

Kate's stomach sends her a sudden reminder as she drops her purse on a chair by the door. "Sounds great, Babe. You may not be spoiling Alexis, but you're spoiling me. I could get used to having a personal chef."

Rick wiggles his eyebrows. "How personal?"

"Let's just say the heat doesn't have to all be in the kitchen."

Castle jogs to the refrigerator. "I'll cook fast."

* * *

"It had to be Eddie Gordon," Paul Morton declares as Kate questions him in the lounge at the 12th Precinct.

"Who's Eddie Gordon?" Kate asks.

"Those reality shows always have a bad boy. On A Night of Dance, it was Eddie Gordon. But Odette had a thing for bad boys, ever since she hit puberty. They pulled her into all kinds of things - shoplifting, drugs. After the accident, it seemed like she'd turned her life around, but then Eddie came along. I think he got her back on drugs. When Odette beat him, he went nuts. She told me that he threatened her with a gun, claiming she betrayed him. She didn't betray him; she was just a better dancer."

"Did she go to the police about him?" Kate presses.

"With her record, she thought the cops would accuse her of pulling a publicity stunt for the show. Besides, if Max Renfro, the producer, found out that Eddie got her back on drugs, she would have been dropped from the show. Odette didn't care about a lot of things, but she wanted to win."

"You buy his story about Eddie Gordon?" Castle asks after Paul departs.

"I don't know, Castle. I'll have to check to see if Paul inherits Odette's money, but if he does, it would be a damn good motive to kill her and throw suspicion on someone else. Let's check in with Lanie. She'll have run bloodwork by now. If Odette was on anything, it will show up."

* * *

"She was on a drug all right," Lanie confirms, "insulin."

"She was a diabetic?" Kate queries.

"Her medical records don't list it, but it looks like she had Type I, since early childhood. She has the atrophy of tissue in her upper thighs and abdomen that happens with years of injections. Good thing for her A Night of Dance didn't go for skimpy costumes. But I found something else. She had plastic surgery on her face, but not the kind that straightens your nose or enhances your cheekbones. It wouldn't have made her look prettier, just subtly different. As far as I can tell, there was no reason for her to do it. She had great bone structure and no underlying disease that would require it. Plus, as a diabetic, she would have been slow to heal. Unnecessary surgery would be contraindicated. It doesn't make sense."

"It does if she's not Odette Morton," Rick muses.

"What are you talking about, Castle?" Kate demands.

"The story was in all the packages on the show, and Paul Morton referred to it, too. Odette Morton was in a terrible train crash and walked away without a scratch. She felt she'd been given a chance for a new life, and it was playing out on the show. Suppose there was no new life. Suppose whoever this is, had plastic surgery not to make her look better, but to look more like Odette. But there was some deep dark secret in her past, and someone killed her for it."

Kate shakes her head. "Castle, that's farfetched, even for you."

"Then, Lanie can prove me wrong. Paul was sipping on coffee while we were questioning him. The trash in the lounge won't be emptied until the cleaning crew comes through tonight. The cup with his DNA on it is probably still there. If this really is Odette, she and Paul will be a sibling match."


	15. Chapter 15

Too Close

Chapter 15

"No way I could have killed Odette," Eddie Gordon swears. "I was across town, taking my agent to dinner. After I was dropped from the show, I was counting on him to come up with a strategy to keep me in the public eye. And I don't blame Odette for getting me dropped. The producer engineers all of that to fit the story they're trying to foist on the audience."

"You mean the competition isn't real?" Castle bursts out.

"The votes from the audience are real, but what the judges say slants the way people vote, and Max Renfro makes sure they say what he wants them to say. The bad boy could only stay long enough to make it look like the redeemed heiress could rise above her checkered past. Anyway, I liked Odette. She was scared, and I wanted to help. I hooked her up with an - acquaintance - who could provide her with the gun she wanted for protection. She was afraid of someone, but it wasn't me."

"We'll check with your agent," Kate assures him, "but assuming you're telling the truth, who was Odette afraid of?"

"I don't know," Eddie insists, "but she had been talking to people from her past - her friend Suzanne Steiner, and Suzanne's father, Graham Morton's butler. I think something she did before she straightened out was catching up with her.

"Eddie's alibi checks out," Kate announces, putting down the receiver of her landline.

From his accustomed seat, Castle props his elbows on her desk. "So, now what?"

"Castle, you've hung around sets with Martha. Who would know the most about what's going on?"

"The person most eager to learn and move up the ladder - the production assistant."

"That's Jasmine, who found Odette's body. The boys already talked to her, but we should talk to her again. Also, the friend of Odette's that Eddie told us about, Suzanne Steiner and also her father Charles Carson, the butler."

"Ooh, if this were a bad mystery story, we could start with Carson. I've always wanted to proclaim, 'The butler did it!'"

"Somehow, I don't think it's going to be that simple."

* * *

"Sorry," Jasmine apologizes, digging into her purse for a tissue, "the set dressers brought a cat into the studio as background for one of the dances. I'm allergic."

"But not to rabbits, I assume," Castle notes, indicating the fur on Jasmine's handbag.

"No, this is my worry purse. Whenever things get too hectic around here," Jasmine explains, running her fingers over the pelt, "I stroke it to calm me down."

"Was there anything you know about that was worrying Odette?" Kate inquires.

"There was something, but I don't know what it was," Jasmine claims, rubbing her fingers harder against the white fur. "She was a lock to win."

"Why do you say that?" Castle asks.

"Because the judges were fawning over her. Unless we have someone like an internet influencer, with a strong fan base, that shifts the vote."

"Santino claims he's strong on the net," Castle points out.

"He has more followers, but part of my job is checking that out. They're bots, making him look good. He probably hired someone to put them out there. But they can't pick up a phone and vote. And he never fully extends his lines."

Castle covers his mouth to smother a guffaw.

"Eddie was the best dancer, but the bad boy is never allowed to win. It would ruin the show's image. Family hour and all that," Jasmine continues.

"That's cynical," Kate remarks.

"Hey, if you want to make it in this business, you have to understand what's going on," Jasmine protests. "I keep my eyes and ears open."

"I'm sure you do," Kate responds.

* * *

Sliding into the passenger seat of the pink caddy, Castle brushes a stray white hair from his pants. "I am saddened and appalled that Jasmine backed up what Eddie said about the show, and I think her purse was shedding. She must have been eating ramen for a month to afford that thing. Meredith bought one like it once, and my credit card groaned under the strain."

"Which reminds me," Kate realizes, "we haven't checked out Odette's financials yet. I know the boys ordered them. But we might see something they missed. Heiress or not, if she was worried about something, it could pop up there. We can do it after we talk to Suzanne Steiner and Charles Carson."

* * *

Suzanne waves Kate and Rick to a couch in the apartment she shares with her husband and drops into a chair opposite them. "I hadn't talked to Odette for at least a year when she called a few days ago and asked me to have lunch with her. It was weird."

"Weird in what way?" Kate asks.

"She was asking me questions about her grandfather's death. The thing is, she would have known about that better than I did. She was there that day. I wasn't. But it was like she didn't remember what happened."

"What did happen?" Castle questions.

"I only know what Odette had told me about it before, and how my father described it to me. Odette started a fire in the kitchen. She turned a toaster oven up too high, and some crumbs caught. She started screaming, and my father came from upstairs. He said it was nothing. All he had to do was throw some salt on it to put it out, and it probably would have gone out by itself anyway. But Odette made a big deal of it. Then when my father went back upstairs to check on Mr. Morton, the old man had passed away."

"And Odette inherited?" Kate queries.

"And Paul," Suzanne confirms, nodding. "My father got a stipend for as long as he lives, too. Graham Morton had threatened to write Odette out because she was seeing a guy he disapproved of. I don't know who. But Mr. Morton died before he could do it."

* * *

"Charles Carson, next or… That's a 911 from Mother, Castle reports, checking the source of the ding from his phone and hitting the callback. "Yes, Mother."

"Richard, you have to stop chasing murderers now and come home. Oona Marconi is coming for dinner, and I need to impress her and flatter her into endorsing my school."

"Mother, are you serious? Oona Marconi? Your nemesis?"

"Never mind that, Richard. Just get back to the loft. I need you to make your Pasta Carbonara. Oh, and pick up one of those lemon dream cakes from Finello's."

"Anything else, Mother?"

"I'm serving your Stag's Leap pinot noir."

"Of course you are. An excellent and expensive choice."

"You'll see, Richard. It will be worth it."

"Oona Marconi? The theater critic?" Kate asks as Rick ends the call. "Why is she Martha's nemesis?"

"Back in 1983, when Mother was playing Maggie in _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_, she gave Mother a bad review."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough that Mother obsessed over it so much I have it memorized. If I'm going to prevent another disaster, I need to go now. You go ahead to see Carson. I can pick up the subway in the next block. Finello's is right along my way from the stop near the loft. See you later?"

"Yeah. Good, luck, Babe."

"It's Mother who needs the luck. If she loses her cool with Oona Marconi, she might as well close down her school even before Oona's piece hits the stands."

Kate slips behind the wheel of the caddy. The car is embarrassing under any circumstances, but driving it without Castle in the passenger seat just feels wrong.


	16. Chapter 16

Too Close

Chapter 16

"The medical examiner concluded that Graham Morton died of natural causes, but I never believed it," Charles Carson declares.

"If he didn't, you be near the top of the suspect list," Kate points out. "His death did leave you fixed for life."

"But I had no reason to kill him. I knew I was in the will, but I was comfortable in my job, and Mr. Morton was well into his years. All I would have had to do was wait. And in my profession, Detective Beckett, waiting is one thing to which one becomes well accustomed. I believe he was smothered."

"Why?" Kate questions.

"Mr. Morton always slept flat. He used a pillow to rest against if he was reading, but he said if he used one at night or when he was napping, he woke up with a stiff neck. I always cleared his pillow from his bed before he took his rest. I'd done so the night he died, but when I went upstairs after the commotion Odette caused in the kitchen, his pillow was beside him."

"Did you talk to Odette about it?"

"I did at the time. She implied that I had become forgetful and left the pillow there myself. I never mentioned it to her again, until she called me a few days ago and told me she had a ticket for me for the show. I've always been a fan of the magnificence of the ballroom. She knew that. And she said she needed to talk with me. We were going to meet after her performance, but of course, her performance never took place."

"Did she say what she wanted to talk about?"

"Her grandfather's death. She went over it as if she hadn't heard what I had to say before. It was very strange, and I got the feeling she wanted to discuss it further. And there was something else. She asked me if I knew who she was seeing back then. How could I not? Mr. Morton was furious about it."

"And who was she seeing?"

"Samuel Lynchberg, Mr. Morton's financial adviser. He was brilliant at his job, so Mr. Morton kept him on, but he found the man personally repugnant."

"Why?"

"Mr. Morton preferred to be compassionate with his money. He supported many causes, and not all of them had tax-deductible status. He would help many individuals who just needed a leg up. He paid Suzanne's way through college. Lynchberg viewed that as a waste. He felt that money should always be earning more money."

"I understand that Odette was given to throwing money around. I would think that would hardly have been attractive to the sort of man you've described."

"Perhaps he thought he could put her on the straight and narrow, Detective Beckett," Carson suggests. "And there is no accounting for the human heart."

"That is very true, Mr. Carson." Kate agrees. "I thank you for your time."

"No thanks necessary," Detective Beckett. "I didn't always approve of Odette's behavior, but nonetheless, I had a certain affection for her. She was Mr. Morton's granddaughter. I do hope that you can find her killer."

"I promise you that I will make every effort, Mr. Carson."

Kate's about to start the Cadillac when her Lanie alert sounds from her cell. "Kate, Castle was right! There was no sibling match between DNA from the body identified as Odette Morton and the DNA from Paul Morton. So I ran her prints. Your victim is Barbra Landau. She was in the system because of some shoplifting charges."

"Lanie, that may make sense. I need you to check on something. The death of Graham Norton, Odette's grandfather, was attributed to natural causes. Can you go over his autopsy and see if there's any indication that he was strangled?"

"Sure, girlfriend, I can pull the file, but you need to give writer-boy a gold star."

"I think I can give him something better than that."

* * *

Alexis throws a questioning look at Rick as Oona Marconi compliments Martha on her almost faultless execution of Pasta Carbonara. Rick shakes his head. The last thing his mother needs is for her granddaughter to point out that she can't cook, but Martha's hands fist as Oona continues. "I imagine that you've learned to prepare a meal without the head tilting and hand fluttering you display onstage."

"My performance as Maggie was good enough to win me a nomination for a Tony," Martha protests.

"Broadway was rather short on talent that year," Oona retorts.

"Or those with talent act and those without any, write reviews," Martha throws back.

"How about some espresso to go with dessert?" Castle hurriedly interjects. "Ms. Marconi, I believe our larder contains LifeBoost beans. I can grind them fresh – certified organic, fair trade, and mycotoxin free."

Oona pushes up from the table. "Your beans may be the only thing here that is toxin-free. I'll take my coat now, please. I have better places to be. And Martha, your students may need a reminder of how little expertise they are getting for your no doubt exorbitant fees. One will appear in this weekend's column."

Kate barely avoids a collision with the critic as she rushes out of the elevator as Kate is about to step in. "Was that Oona Marconi leaving?" she asks as Castle lets her into the loft. "From the way she was storming out, she didn't look happy."

"It was a disaster, Katherine," Martha mourns. "My school is finished. I'm finished." Martha starts up the stairs to her room before calling back, "In a few day's I'll be lucky if I can get a walk-on in dinner theater."

"Was it really that bad?" Kate asks after Martha's door slams.

"Pretty bad," Rick admits. "Mother implied that Oona is a critic because she has no talent."

"Ouch."

"Uh-huh, and Mother's school is struggling already. A bad notice in Oona's column can only make it worse, and I can't think of anything to do about it right now. But listen, are you hungry? There's pasta left over, and we never opened the cake."

"Thanks. I haven't had a chance to think about food until now. Lanie called. You were right. Odette wasn't Odette. And I checked her financials. You were right about Jasmine's purse costing a fortune, too, but she didn't eat ramen to pay for it. It was charged to Odette's account."

"Jasmine said she keeps her eyes and ears open. She must have seen or heard something that faux Odette wanted to hide."

"Faux Odette was the real Barbra Landau. She was a shoplifter."

"And apparently a great dancer. As I recall, Suzanne said that Odette got involved with shoplifting too. Maybe their paths crossed somehow. We'll figure it out - after I feed you. Even the best homicide detective on the force may need all her strength to crack this one."

"That's not all I could use some energy for, Babe. Lanie thinks you deserve a gold star for figuring out that Odette wasn't Odette. I have another reward in mind."

"Do tell, Detective."

"I think I will have to demonstrate. But God, it smells good in here. Where's the pasta?"

"Coming right up, and while you're stoking your inner fires, you can stoke mine by telling me if Charles Carson said anything interesting."

"Could be, because if what he believes is true, we may have two murders to solve."

Rick scrambles to the kitchen. "I'll get you a double helping."


	17. Chapter 17

Too Close

Chapter 17

Eyes focused on nothing; Kate slowly chews her pasta. Rick waves a hand in front of her face. Where are you?"

"Oh, I was just hoping that when the case is closed, and I have time to go over Coonan's property, it will be written up in a way that I can tell what's important."

"That would speed the process, wouldn't it?" Castle notes. "And sometimes writing like that is the most difficult thing to do. Things get littered with clever but completely unnecessary phrases, making it hard to get to the meat of the story. Oh! That's it, Kate."

"What's it?"

"How I can get Mother back in Oona's good graces. I've heard some cocktail party chatter in publishing circles that Oona is trying to push a book - a novel. There's been an overload of those from minor celebrities trying to drum up some notice lately, so it's been at the bottom of slush piles. But perhaps if I can give Oona some hope, I can restore Mother's."

"That's really sweet, Castle."

"That's what family does, isn't it, take care of each other?"

"We've seen a lot of examples where that hasn't been the case, but it should be, Babe. I'm glad you can hold on to it."

"That's not all I want to hold on to."

"That makes two of us," Kate agrees, getting up and sticking her plate in the refrigerator. "I can finish that for breakfast."

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Rick gently samples the tender flesh of her neck, before scooping her up. "A dessert much superior to lemon dream cake."

The moist warmth of Kate's whisper sounds in Castle's ear. "More like an appetizer. We're just getting started."

Kate bounces from Castle's arms to the bed after his rapid strides to their retreat, her hands surging upward, urging him to join her. He needs no encouragement, his lips meeting hers. Their tongues seek and spar, spurred on by the savory flavor of Rick's bacon-rich Carbonara. Kate presses against him, seeking deeper contact as fingers clumsy with haste seek out the fasteners keeping them in fabric-clad bondage. Bare skin meets bare skin in a blaze of heat, as Kate wraps her legs around him, drawing him closer to her. Their hands and mouths are everywhere, each touch and taste bringing greater desire. Their joining brings only split-second relief as they tumble together torn between the lust for sensation and the need for completion. Waves build from ripples to a thunderous crash, and they lay shaken but replete.

* * *

As the water of an early morning shower sluices off their bodies, Rick can feel Kate go still as he lathers her skin with cherry-scented wash. "What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking about Lynchberg. If he was Odette's boyfriend, wouldn't he have known something was off when Barbra Landau took her place? I mean, she looked like Odette, but there are some things Barbra wouldn't have known how to fake. And I'm not sure she could have if she tried."

"If last night was any example, I know that no one could ever masquerade as you, to me. The combustibility between us is one of a kind."

"Ditto, Babe. So if Barbra was going to succeed in her masquerade, she would have had to push Lynchberg away. He might have been pissed off enough to kill."

"And maybe it wasn't the first time."

"What do you mean, Castle?"

"We know Odette didn't kill her grandfather. She was downstairs, starting a fire. What if it was a distraction to draw Charles Carson away so that her accomplice could smother him. Except that the accomplice didn't know Graham Morton's habits well enough to take away the pillow when he was done with it. He only dealt with Morton's money."

"Lynchberg!" Kate hurriedly rinses the fragrant foam from her shoulders and reaches for a towel as she steps out of the stall. "He kills Graham so Odette can inherit. And then things are fine until the train accident. Enter Barbra. She and Odette knew each other from Odette's shoplifting days. Odette was a party girl. She couldn't be bothered with things like doing community service time, so she engaged Barbra as her double."

"But Barbra doesn't know that Odette and Lynchberg worked together to take Graham out of the way," Rick realizes. "When she tries to keep her distance, he says things about what they did together that make her suspicious - and scared. She talks to Suzanne and Carson. She asks Eddie to get her a gun, but Lynchberg takes her out before she has a chance to use it."

Kate's arms circle Rick's waist as she wraps him in a towel. "We've got our story. We just have to prove it."

* * *

Samuel Lynchberg apologizes for the disarray in his office, explaining that he is moving to larger quarters. "Why is that?" Castle inquires.

Lynchberg takes half-filled boxes off two chairs, making room for Kate and Rick to sit. "I have more duties managing the Morton estate now that Odette is gone, and I've picked up additional clients."

"Weren't you already managing Odette's money?" Kate asks.

"Just paying her bills, credit cards, that sort of thing. But now that her portion is passing to Paul, I'm in charge of all the investments."

"That must be quite a portfolio," Castle remarks.

"It is," Lynchberg agrees.

"And if you're moving up in the world, I would assume it involves some hefty management fees." Castle continues. "I know that I find the ones listed on the statements from my manager can be quite substantial."

"I try to keep them reasonable," Lynchberg claims. "If you have any interest in changing firms, Mr. Castle, we can arrange a time to go over your needs."

"Right now, my needs are more investigatory in nature, Mr. Lynchberg. Detective Beckett and I have some details we need to cover with you about Odette."

"Did you notice a change in her spending habits lately?" Kate queries.

Lynchberg smacks his palm on his desk. "Change is putting it mildly. After the train derailment, Odette seemed to turn over a new leaf. She was keeping her spending within limits, mostly for dance classes. But in the past months, the charges skyrocketed. I told her that in the current economy, her investments wouldn't grow fast enough to maintain her principal if she was that extravagant, but she ignored me."

"Considering how close you were that must have stung," Kate suggests.

Lynchberg's face whitens. "Who told you that Odette and I were close?"

"That doesn't matter, Mr. Lynchberg, but that relationship drove a wedge between Odette and Graham Morton, didn't it? In fact, if he hadn't died as soon as he did, your girlfriend would have essentially been left penniless."

"That's ridiculous!" Lynchberg protests, "Odette and her grandfather just had a minor misunderstanding. She would have been able to smooth it out eventually."

"Still, his death was conveniently timed," Kate presses. "As was Odette's, if it kept the finances you profit from intact."

"The only person Odette's death was conveniently timed for was Santino," Lynchberg insists.

Kate rises from her chair, staring down at him. "Except that, at the time the shot was fired, Santino was backstage, waiting to make his entrance. He has half the crew of A Night of Dance as witnesses. The question, Samuel, is where were you. We found a gun matching the murder weapon in a storm drain near the studio. Want to bet the prints on the clip are yours? A woman who was sitting next to you in the audience recognized the picture of you I pulled from your website. She also said that you weren't in your seat during the opening pyrotechnics - while your bullet was taking a life."

Springing from his seat, Lynchberg races for the door, to be met by Ryan and Esposito. Ryan shakes his head as he produces a pair of handcuffs. "They always try to run."


	18. Chapter 18

Too Close

Chapter 18

Kate swipes the hair off her face. "Damn! Coonan was a freaking packrat. The list of his miscellaneous property is 30 pages long - small font and single-spaced."

"Maybe we can narrow it down a little," Castle offers. "We just want to look at items where he might have secured information. My guess is the forensic accountants already went over the obvious - computers, drives, ledgers. If it's something they didn't find, we need to get creative."

"Creative is your thing, Babe. What would you suggest?"

"Books are one of the better places to hide things. People have been slipping secret messages into bindings for hundreds of years. But there is a multitude of ways to embed codes or use books as keys to codes."

"Like Dunn did with Heat Wave."

"Right. But if Coonan did that, we'd have to find both the original writings and the key. I'm hoping for more simplicity - a crime story, not the Da Vinci code."

Kate scans through the text on her computer display. "The property clerk stored boxes of Coonan's books. I guess that's as good a place to start as any. And Gates is attending a conference, so we won't have to justify a trip to the warehouse. Good thing I've got my new unit. Anyone seeing that pink Cadillac would look twice at my badge and a little weirdly at you, too."

"People often look weirdly at me, Kate. They expect writers to be strange."

"Considering that you still have Boba Fett in the bathroom, they could be right," Kate teases. "Let's get going before something pops around here."

* * *

Kate flips out her knife to slice open a cardboard carton and grimaces, reaching into her pocket for a pair of gloves."

"A little late to worry about fingerprints and DNA, isn't it?" Castle queries.

"That's not what I'm worried about. This is all porn, the slasher stuff. Who knows what Coonan was doing with it?"

"Ugh! That image is going to assault my brain for a while. Do you have another pair?"

Kate reaches into her other pocket. "Here, for those extra-large hands of yours. I usually carry a pair for when you forget."

"I'm flattered that you take that much care with me."

"I take that much care with crime scenes, but you're welcome. Oh God, look at this, Castle. _Raping and Pillaging in Scarsdale_."

"And here I thought that the pillaging of Scarsdale was executed by diet doctors. Anything in it that wasn't provided by the publisher?"

"You don't want to know," Kate replies with a gagging sound, "but nothing useful. Flipping through all of these to check could take hours or days."

"Maybe we'll get lucky. From the look of things, Coonan didn't, much - or preferred to do his thrusting with sharp pointy objects."

* * *

Castle rubs the small of his back before flipping through the next book. He's been through 10 boxes and lost track of how many volumes. This tome is thankfully of an entirely different genre. Why Coonan would have been interested in astrology, Castle has no idea, except that killers are often into the occult in one way or another. "Kate, I think I found something!" he calls, holding the book up for her to see. "Look! Coonan circled signs all through this thing, and phrases to go with them."

Kate checks the box that yielded Rick's find. "There are books on each individual sign in here too. They might correlate. We're not allowed to take anything out of the facility. We're going to have to snap pictures of each page he's marked so we can figure them out later. I don't know how well that's going to work with our phones. If I get too close, I lose focus."

"Never fear!" Rick proclaims. "Castle is here with," he pauses for effect while reaching into his pocket, "a small but mighty camera with adjustable focus."

Kate stretches up to peck his lips. "Sometimes, your love of technology can come in handy."

"In more ways than you can imagine, but let's get to work. Mother should be sweeping in around dinner time, and I want to find out if my intervention with Oona Marconi knit the raveled sleeve of care."

* * *

Martha spreads her arms with dramatic flair. "Richard, my brilliant son, you have accomplished the impossible! My school is saved!"

"Glad to hear it, Mother. May I assume that with this boost to your pedagogical enterprise, you will be able to complete the repairs and no longer require the use of the loft as a theatrical venue?"

"We'll see, Richard. There are still some elements of the craft that require a more intimate atmosphere than my school's theater."

Rick jams his teeth together. "I can hardly wait."

* * *

"I've got the last of the photos uploaded to my computer," Rick reports, as Kate brings him a fresh cup of coffee. You want to examine them on my big screen, or should I print them out?"

"Print them out. At least we can divide the pile. Any idea of exactly what we'll be looking for?"

Probably references from the book covering the entire zodiac to the ones highlighting individual signs - or vice versa. We'll have to try to keep matching them up until we find a pattern. After that, we'll have a better idea of how to make connections. At least we won't need gloves for this, except maybe to prevent paper cuts."

"Castle, if this gets us the link between Bracken and Coonan, I'll buy you a year's supply of band-aids."

"The ones with Star Wars figures on them?"

"Whatever you want."

* * *

"What was Detective Beckett doing searching through Coonan's property?" Bracken demands, repressing his urge to snarl into the telephone.

"I have no idea, Sir," an assistant in the Property Clerk's office reports. "But she had to give me a case number. It matches the murder of a Scott Murray."

"All right, keep me apprised, Kellum, of anything having to do with Dick Coonan."

"Yes, Senator. I appreciate how much you looking into his drug smuggling activities benefited the people in this city. You're a good man."

It takes Bracken a moment to place the name, Scott Murray. He hired Coonan for a lot of kills, most of which would have no connection to Kate Beckett. But Scott Murray was involved with Johanna Beckett's investigation of Pulgatti. That Kate Beckett is looking into it can't be an accident. Damn! He thought he had a deal. But he'd thought he'd had one with Roy Montgomery too. Then the f***ing cop had to decide to redeem himself.

The gloves are off now. He'll call in Maddox. Lockwood was good, but Maddox is a level up and enjoys both the hunt and the kill. He'll find whoever has that file and punish him, permanently. After that, Maddox will go after Kate Beckett. It's a shame, really. She is a beautiful woman. If the situation were different Bracken might be trying to win her attention in an entirely different way. A Senator has to be much more impressive than some hack writer. But like her bitch of a mother, she's getting close to finding out too much about his business. He can't allow anyone to do that. Beckett will be terminated with extreme prejudice.


	19. Chapter 19

Too Close

Chapter 19

Castle shuffles and reshuffles his Sagittarius photos on the table until jumping to his feet. "Booyah! Kate, I see what Coonan did. The signs in the general reference give us approximate time periods. The numbers circled refer to locations, and the phrases refer to the individual sign descriptions. The more detailed books give quirks and personality traits, Coonan needed to stalk his victims. Together, all the notations constitute a diary of his murderous activities. We could dub him the 'Zodiac Killer,' if it weren't already taken. I'll have to think of another moniker."

"But what about connections to Bracken, Babe?"

"I don't know. Perhaps when we track down these individual murders, they'll correlate with some of Bracken's activities. Publicity hound that he is, those are pretty well documented in the press. We can look for date matches. As searches go, that will be a lot easier than this."

"From your mouth to God's ears," Kate hopes, rubbing the stiffening muscles in her neck. "Wow, I could really use a hot shower."

"How about a massage to go with it?" Castle offers.

"You've been working at least as hard as I have. We could take turns."

"Detective, you have a deal."

* * *

As the sun rises over Boylan Plaza, the die-hard protesters are beginning to wake up and wonder who might have something for breakfast - except for Jesse Friedman. He has his early morning meeting with Leann West before she takes her place for her stand up. The reporter smooths what's supposed to be the casual fall of her hair. "Are you sure that bomb is going to make an explosion I can catch on camera."

"You'll have to be careful where you stand, so the camera is aimed in the right direction," Jesse cautions. I'm going to put it between the two dumpsters on the west side of the plaza, to make sure the blast is contained. We're not there to hurt anyone, just to make sure that our message about the stranglehold that Wall Street has on this country is heard."

"I'll make sure it's heard, Jesse. A bomb going off amid a protest like that will get a national pickup. We both win."

"It's the people who are supposed to win, Leann," Jesse retorts. "The moneychangers have taken over what should have been the temple to freedom. We're going to take it back."

* * *

Castle's yawn rumbles through the loft as the door closes behind Alexis. "I don't know why I'm so sleepy. After your magical laying on of hands, I've rarely slept better."

"But you've slept longer. It was 1 a.m. when you came up with your brainstorm about those pictures. You could have let Alexis make her own breakfast and slept in a little. I've seen her in the kitchen. She knows what she's doing."

"I know she does. She was schooled by the master. Thank God she hasn't picked up too many bad habits from her grandmother. Feeding her is not really the point. If I sleep in while she gets herself ready for school, I'll miss out on some of the best times I have with my daughter. She shares what she's excited about in the coming day and sometimes what she dreads. Occasionally, I may even say something helpful. As she has more and more to do after school, our morning time keeps the father-daughter bond going. I'd rather miss out on a little sleep than miss out on that."

"I understand, Babe. Your commitment to fatherhood is one of the things I love about you."

"Love, Kate? That word has managed to force its way through my lips to you, but this is the first time I can remember you coming out with it to me. And I don't believe that I could forget. Is it too much to hope that you've finished 'processing?'"

"I'm realizing more and more how much of your time you're spending trying to give me what I need. It's easier to accept now, why you thought you had to keep what Smith told you, from me. Except for my parents, no one has gone out on a limb for me as much as you have. And you keep doing it. So, I'm getting there."

"I can only wish that your remaining journey is swift. However, in recognition of your giant steps forward, we should celebrate. How would you feel about Belgian waffles topped with strawberries, whipped cream and a sprinkle of mini chocolate chips?"

"They sound amazing, but I need to get to the precinct. I can get access there, to the databases we need to cross-check Coonan's references to known crimes so we can pick up on any links to Bracken. And Gates should be coming back sometime today. I want to get in as much research as I can before she shows up.

"I hear that," Castle acknowledges. "A latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla and a croissant to go?"

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

Jesse positions the blue canvas backpack where he calculates it will do the least amount of damage. The charge of explosive inside is sizable. The blast wouldn't be convincing if it weren't, but the crowd is far enough from his improvised shield to keep the protesters and onlookers from harm. He walks away and gives Leann the all-clear for detonation, just as he sees a blur out of the corner of his eye. Oh, God! Some kid has grabbed the backpack and is running away with it. "Stop! That's mine!" Jesse yells, desperately sprinting after the boy. The would-be thief drops the bag by a lamp post and runs toward the edge of the plaza. Trying to reach the bomb, Jesse frantically signals Leann to abort. It's too damn late.

* * *

Castle stares frozen at the body of a toddler at the periphery of the corpses of so many other victims in Boylan Plaza. Kate puts a hand on his arm. "Are you OK, Babe?"

"Yes. No! How could anyone be OK with this, Kate? It's senseless! These people, this child, weren't here to hurt anyone. They were just trying to send a message. In this country, in this city, they should have been free to do that. Alexis was sympathetic to their cause. If this had happened when she…"

Gates strides up behind them. "The N.Y.P.D. has been ordered off the scene. The FBI is classing this as a terrorist attack and is assuming jurisdiction."

Castle spins around. "Captain, we can't just do nothing!"

"The N.Y.P.D. will be acting in a supportive capacity," Gates explains. "It will be our responsibility to interview witnesses and develop leads to transmit to the federal agents. There were at least 300 people here. Believe me, Detective Beckett and everyone at the 12th, even you Mr. Castle, will have plenty to do."

Castle shakes his head, trying to banish the horrendous images from his mind, as Kate drives her unit toward the precinct. "Whoever did this is as much of a monster as Coonan, maybe even as Bracken. At least they killed for a reason, however twisted. What could anyone possibly have to gain from that carnage?"

"I don't know, Castle. If we can figure that out, maybe we can figure out who did it. If it was terrorists, they should issue a statement, a manifesto, or something. Until we know more, we take it step by step; interview each witness, and gather as many facts as we can. But you know, you don't have to do this. If what happened is hitting you too hard, I can drop you at the loft."

"No way! I'm your partner Kate. I'm with you every step of the way through this. But when I do make it home, I'm going to hug my daughter - a lot."


	20. Chapter 20

Too Close

Chapter 20

"Sir," Kate calls from the doorway of Gate's office, "We have witnesses crammed into every space in the precinct. Some of them have been waiting for hours to be questioned, and there are lines at all the restrooms. Isn't there some way we can prioritize the interviews so we can send some of these people home? If we could get the video from Leann West's broadcast, it would help us know who was more likely to have seen something relevant."

Gates tosses her reading glasses onto a pile of files on her desk. "I agree with you, Detective, we should have that video, but the FBI refuses to release it. I do have another idea. I have a contact at DHS who might be able to help. In the meantime, do the best you can. I've put out a call across the city for any personnel available to talk to the witnesses. That should help to thin things out a little. Is that pizza I smell?"

"Yes, Sir. Castle had a caterer bring a van full. He thought that it might help to boost the morale of the witnesses and the energy of our people."

"Good idea, but I take it the department won't be getting the bill. I'm not sure I even have room in my budget for the extra toilet paper this operation will require."

"No, Sir. It's Castle's contribution to our efforts to catch the bomber."

Gates picks up her glasses again. "Good. Give him my thanks. Is there any pepperoni and mushroom out there?"

"I'll check, Sir."

* * *

"It was Beethoven," Westside Wally declares, reaching for another slice of double-cheese. "I saw him, and I heard his Fifth Symphony, fate knocking at the door, clear as day. He must have had a vision."

"Someone is having visions," Esposito mutters.

"Are you on any medication, Wally?" Ryan asks.

Wally indignantly straightens in his chair. "I don't see why that's relevant."

* * *

Tearless but white-faced, Mark slumps over the edge of the table. "I can't believe that Jesse is dead, you know. He was our leader. I wanted to quit because it seemed like we weren't getting anywhere, but he convinced me to stay. He quoted Edmund Burke, 'For evil to succeed, it is only necessary for good men to do nothing.' He was right. Half the wealth in this country is owned by 1% of the population, and they re stealing more of it each day while our government sits on its ass. You should be looking at Wall Street. One of those fat cats probably forced some oppressed underling to plant the bomb."

"We're considering all possibilities," Kate assures him. "But right now what you need to do is tell us everything you saw and heard before the bomb went off, whether you think it's important or not. Sometimes it's the most insignificant-seeming thing that provides the vital clue."

"Jesse and I were sharing a tent, but when I woke up this morning, he wasn't there. He keeps track of the contributions we get, and I figured he might have gone on a food run. When he came back, he did have a bag of Egg McMuffins. Some of the women were handing out fruit, and some other people brought stuff. Most of us gathered around to eat. Then this guy came up handing out wingnut leaflets. He called us all losers and yelled at us that we should get a job. A lot of people came over to try to shut him up or tell him to go f**k himself. There was one guy in a hoodie who bumped into him. The asshole dropped his flyers, and the guy ran off. Maybe he was afraid the jerk was going to hit him or something.

"The plaza began to fill up. More protesters came, but I think some people just showed up to stare at us. There were a couple of girls with bags from the Ballston Boutique. If they could afford to shop there, I don't think they were interested in transferring the wealth to the less fortunate."

"Was anyone else carrying anything, a box, a backpack, anything that could hold a bomb?" Kate questions.

Jesse had a backpack, but he wasn't wearing it. I heard his phone go off. I could tell it was his because he uses Beethoven's Fifth as his ring tone, and I saw him pull his cell out of his pocket. More people brought boxes of food, and some of the crowd had tote bags and purses. I don't know anything about bombs. I have no idea where anyone could hide one. I was an English major. I'm tutoring while I work on my masters so I can get my credential. I want to teach in the inner city."

"Very admirable," Castle comments.

Kate passes her card across the table. "You can go, Mark, but if you think of anything else, anything at all, call me, day or night."

"I will," Mark promises. "I owe it to Jesse."

As Mark weaves his way to the elevator, Kate pounds her fist into her palm. "Damn it, Castle, we're getting nowhere. Right now, I'm almost willing to try one of those crazies who speaks to ghosts. Jesse Friedman was the one closest to the blast. He might be able to identify the bomber, but the dead don't speak."

"I don't know about that, Kate - and no, I'm not going to try to convince you that there are ghosts. But the dead speak to Lanie all the time. They tell her where they were and what they were doing, even what they had for breakfast. Jesse's body may have told her something we can use."

"You're right, Castle. Let's go see her."

* * *

Kate stares down at the almost pristine body of Jesse Friedman. "I don't see any shrapnel wounds."

"Because there was no shrapnel," Lanie explains. "He was killed by the force of the explosion, driving him to the pavement."

Castle unconsciously rakes his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand. Don't bombers usually add nails or screws or something to a bomb to maximize casualties?"

"They do," Lanie agrees, "but apparently this one didn't. Jesse has a piece of the lamppost, and some blue canvas, probably from whatever held the bomb embedded in his skin, but that's it. Same for the other victims. They died from the impact."

A klaxon sounds from Kate's phone. "That's an all hands on deck alert from Gates. Maybe her friend at DHS came through."

* * *

"What are we looking at, Captain?" Castle asks, staring at the collection of ball-like numbered markers on the big screen.

"This is a trace of where every cellphone was in the minute before the bomb went off. "This," Gates points, "is the location of the lamppost. We need to give first priority to questioning owners of the phones closest to it."

"Captain, can you run that again?" Castle requests, "I thought I saw something."

"You're right, Castle," Kate exclaims, watching one ball surge toward the lamppost and quickly retreat. "The owner of that phone planted the bomb."

Gates consults a list on her clipboard. "That phone belongs to an Andrew Haynes."

"The sonofabitch is in the building," Ryan realizes. "He's one of the witnesses we have downstairs, waiting to be questioned."

"Detective Beckett, get him up here right now," Gates orders, "but don't let him know that he's a suspect. I want to watch you spring one of your nasty surprises on the bastard."

"Yes, Sir."


	21. Chapter 21

Too Close

Chapter 21

Haynes' eyes appreciatively sweep up and down Beckett as L.T. ushers him into the interrogation room. When Castle starts to follow Kate inside, she reaches back to put a restraining hand on his arm. I should go in alone. I can use the way this asshole ogled me. But I want you to watch in case we have to put our heads together afterward."

Rick salutes. "I won't take my eyes off that slimeball for a second."

Hips swaying slightly, Kate saunters up to the table where Haynes is sitting and slides into a chair. "I read one of the tracts you gave to the desk sergeant, Mr. Haynes. Very interesting. As one who's out on the streets every day trying to make this city a better place, I understand how you feel about people who can't pull their own weight."

Andrew nods vigorously. "Those people should have been doing honest work instead of infesting public property; then, they never would have been blown up."

"And what do you do, Mr. Haynes?" Kate asks as casually as she can.

"I run two businesses: a print shop and a military surplus store. I printed the flyer you saw."

"It was very well done. And I would assume that as a student of the needs of the military, you would be familiar with the ordnance our troops use to keep us safe."

Haynes' chest expands. "You can believe that. I can tell you things about weaponry you might not even know as a police officer."

Rising to her feet, Kate leans on the table, nailing Haynes in her gaze. "Like the bomb that went off in Boylan Plaza? You didn't have much trouble putting that together, did you? Was that your way of wiping out an infestation?"

Haynes' mouth drops open. "You think I set off the bomb? I'm not a criminal. I'm just trying to keep the leeches from sucking the life out of this country. I didn't kill anyone."

"Oh no, Andrew? Then why did we trace a signal from your cellphone to the spot the bomb was placed, a minute before it went off? You planted it and gave yourself time to get far enough away to escape the blast. Others weren't nearly that lucky. You blew up a child, Andrew, a two-year-old boy, and you're going to pay for that."

"Wait a minute," Haynes pleads. "I don't even have my phone. I wanted to call my shops to tell them I was here doing my duty as a citizen, and I noticed it was gone. There was a guy who ran into me at the plaza and didn't even apologize. He must have stolen it."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Right. And what did this - guy - look like?"

"Dark skin, dark eyes. That spic thief is your bomber."

* * *

"Tech traced the GPS on Haynes' phone," Ryan reports. "It's in an apartment building on 97th Street."

"Haynes' story about a bump and lift, tracks with what Mark, Friedman's lieutenant told us," Kate realizes. "That bigoted jerk might just be telling the truth. Let's go!"

* * *

Kate taps her fingers on a file in front of her. "You've been moving up, Bobby from a string of shoplifting and petty theft charges. We searched your apartment. You didn't just have the cellphone you stole at Boylan Plaza this morning. You had 20 more, and quite a stash of stolen credit cards and jewelry. You have a good thing going, so what I don't understand is why you would turn to mass murder."

Bobby Lopez swipes at the sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Murder? No way! Yeah, I lifted the phone. With what the asshole I liberated it from was saying, he deserved it. But I didn't kill anyone. You have my record. I'm strictly nonviolent."

"So it was a coincidence that the phone you 'liberated' managed to approach the spot where the bomb was and move away again just before it went off?" Castle presses.

"I don't know," Bobby claims. "The shock, the trauma, I don't remember!"

"That's bullsh*t, Bobby," Kate insists. "You have no idea what trauma is. I was shot, I almost drowned. Those things are burned into my mind the way a bullet burned itself into my chest. But you don't have to tell me. We already have enough evidence that it would take a jury about two seconds to come back with a guilty verdict."

Stains bloom under Bobby's arms as his shoulders slump. "All right. I saw a backpack between two dumpsters. It was just sitting there, you know? No one was watching it. So I grabbed it, but this guy started running after me and yelling that it was his, so I dropped it and took off. I never had a chance to look inside it. I swear, I didn't know it was a bomb."

"The guy who was running after you, what did he look like?" Kate demands.

"Kind of reddish hair. He was wearing one of those T-shirts with a 99 on it like the protesters had."

Castle's eyes meet Kate's as he signals her to talk outside the room. "Kate, Jessie Friedman had red hair. Lanie took his things off before we saw the body, but as the leader of the protest, he was probably wearing one of those T-shirts. We should check with her."

"Castle, why would Jesse kill himself with his own bomb?"

"Maybe he didn't mean to. Mark said they weren't getting anywhere with the protest, and Jesse insisted that they couldn't do nothing. He builds a bomb, but just to draw attention to his cause. He doesn't intend for anyone to get hurt, so he leaves out what would normally cause the most damage. That's why there was no shrapnel. He puts it between the two dumpsters so that they'll absorb the blast, but he doesn't count on Lopez grabbing it. Jesse tries to get it back, to disarm it, or put it back somewhere safer before it goes off, but he doesn't make it."

"But Castle, the feds found no evidence of a timer. Someone would have had to detonate it. Why would Friedman set it off?"

"He wouldn't, Kate. He had to have a partner - someone he couldn't signal in time to stop the explosion, and who was far enough away not to see Jesse was on top of the bomb - or didn't care."

"Assuming that your theory is right, Babe, that would rule out the protesters. Who else would have anything to gain?"

"I don't know, Kate."

"We'll have to review everything, starting with all the video anyone took of the protest. Even without what the FBI has been holding back, those have gone viral. There should be multiple versions on the web."

Castle cups her cheek. "Are you all right, Kate? When you were telling Bobby about remembering everything, you seemed - I don't know. And you're shivering."

"That was hard, Babe," Kate admits. "It was like it all came back in a rush like it did when I was drowning. And I'm cold like the water is still penetrating my body. But I don't have time to deal with that right now."

Castle wraps his jacket around her shoulders. "But, you know you can talk to me about it whenever you're ready."

Kate snuggles into the garment, still warm from Rick's body. "I know."


	22. Chapter 22

Too Close

Chapter 22

"Can you turn up the sound and rerun it?" Ryan requests, pointing at the screen.

Tech chief Wong backs up the video and starts it again.

Ryan nods. "Yeah, there it is, that's what I thought I heard - the opening four notes of Beethoven's fifth."

Esposito palms his forehead. "Damn! Wally wasn't hearing things."

"Jesse is answering his phone," Castle points out. "It must be his ring tone."

"From the time stamp, this is about a minute before the bomb goes off," Kate notes. It could be Jessie's final contact with his partner, but no one else in this video is on the phone."

"We need a video that was shot from further away." Castle turns to Wong. "Do you have that video that someone caught of Leann getting ready to do her broadcast before the bomb went off?"

Wong taps on his keyboard. "I do. It'll be just a minute."

"There!" Castle exclaims as the video begins to roll. "That's the same timestamp as Jesse's call, and Leann is talking to someone. Kate, it makes perfect sense! The protesters would gain national attention by having a bomb go off - but so would Leann. Her broadcast was probably picked up by every outlet across the country and quite a few around the world, not to mention YouTube. That broadcast took her from a local reporter to a national figure. If Jesse teamed up with her, he must have thought of it as a win-win."

Kate's teeth dig into her bottom lip. "Except that it was a win-lose. Leann may have won, but Jesse and all those others lost their lives."

* * *

"Are you feeling better now?" Castle asks as Kate stretches out on the couch at the loft, with her head propped against his chest. "Any future broadcasting Leann West does will be from behind prison walls."

Kate digs her fingertips into a throw pillow. "Which doesn't change anything. Those people are still dead, and their loved ones are struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives. Castle, we have to get Bracken. After the speech he made decrying the violence at Boylan Plaza, the talking heads were saying that he was hinting at a run for the presidency. He's deadly enough as a senator, but can you imagine how much damage he could do as the most powerful man in the world? We can't let that happen."

"No, we can't," Castle agrees. "Gates said that she'd be taking a few days to be with her family now that things have calmed down. It will be the perfect time to dive into our research on all Coonan's dastardly deeds and dig out his connections to Bracken."

"Unless we pick up another murder."

"Even if we do, we'll fit in hunting down Bracken somehow. If you're going to banish your demons, Kate, you need to nail him. And to knock down what's left of the wall between us, I need to help you."

* * *

Castle rubs eyes reddened from staring too long at a computer screen, and fills the last of 20 pages of a legal pad. "These are my notes on the final one, Kate. That's all the murders that matched with Constellation Coonan's descriptions."

Kate's lips wanly twitch upward. "So, you finally came up with a name for him?"

"I admit it is not my best work, but it fits. Anyway, now that we have all of these, we can start cross-checking them with Bracken's activities. And we won't have to use the N.Y.P.D. databases for that. Lexis-Nexis and the archives of The Ledger should have what we need. We can work from the loft and not have to worry about Gates."

Kate checks her father's watch. It's not as to the second as it was before it was submerged, but it is close enough so that she's not about to put it away in favor of something more accurate - at least not yet. "I've still got three hours left on my shift. If …"

"Beckett!" Esposito yells, springing from behind his desk. "We've got a body."

* * *

"We got the prelims done while you and Castle were caught in traffic," Ryan reports. "The room is registered to a Naomi Allen. She was found by one of the maids, and the woman who found her saw a man leaving."

Kate nods. "We'll have to get the maid with a sketch artist."

"One already on the way," Esposito says, pointing down at the body. "Beautiful woman."

Castle tilts his head, looking down at Naomi. "I think I've seen her before. Weldon dragged me to a political fundraiser. Sometimes the party hires models to dress those things up and make people, the men at least, more likely to open their checkbooks. I think she was there. She was cozying up to some guests from the British consulate."

"She is British," Ryan confirms. "She showed the hotel her passport as ID, but gave a New York City address."

"Lanie, what was the cause of death?" Kate asks.

"Strangulation and she probably didn't go easy. See that bruise on her cheek? It looks like she fought back."

"Why would someone who lives in New York be staying at a hotel?" Castle wonders. "Hookup gone bad?"

Kate surveys the room. "This place has been searched." She reaches for the purse on the dresser. "Her money and credit cards are still here. Someone was looking for something specific, besides a good time. There's a business card here from her booking agent, a Clare Panchard. Maybe she knows what Naomi was doing. You boys track down Naomi's next of kin while you're waiting for a sketch of the intruder. Then you can canvass the hotel with it. Castle and I will go see Ms. Panchard."

* * *

"I was worried about Naomi, but I never expected she'd turn up dead," Clare Panchard confesses.

"Why were you worried about her?" Kate asks.

"Because she was in a downward spiral."

"Drugs?" Castle questions.

Clare shakes her head. "Nothing like that, at least not that I saw, but she was sliding professionally. Naomi had been one of my top models - designer runway gigs, fashion spreads, but then she started asking for the assignments I usually give the girls who are struggling."

"Like what?" Kate presses.

"Showing up to decorate parties – giving the hosts a visible boost in status to pry money out of prospective investors."

"Or possible political contributors," Castle asserts.

"That's right, Mr. Castle."

"Where did you book her recently?" Kate queries.

"Nowhere. She wanted me to get her into an album launch party Biggy Slims was having, but I didn't have an in. She seemed really upset about that. She said she wanted to talk to him."

"Could she have tried to crash on her own?" Kate proposes.

"It's possible," Clare admits. "Guys like Biggy Slims have their own bodyguards and bouncers, but they might let a beautiful woman through, and even if Naomi didn't keep up her career, she did keep up her looks. If she'd been willing, I would have booked her back on the runway anytime."

"Do you have any idea why Naomi would have been staying at a hotel?" Kate inquires.

"None. Lord knows her apartment would be expensive enough, especially with her income going down. But none of what Naomi was doing lately makes any sense."

Kate hands Clare her business card. "If you can think of anything about Naomi that might make sense, please give me a call."

"There's one heck of a story here," Castle muses on the way back to Kate's unit. "But I'll be damned if I can put my finger on the opening sentence."

"That makes both of us, Babe, but maybe the boys will turn up something."


	23. Chapter 23

Too Close

Chapter 23

"At least Clare's assistant had the address for Naomi's apartment," Castle muses. "We might find a clue there before the boys finish their canvass."

Kate slides heavily behind the wheel. "I hope so, Babe. Sometimes when a model goes off the rails like Naomi did, it's burnout, and she isn't doing anything rational. I saw it when I was modeling. That's one of the reasons I stopped. I didn't make as much money working in a motorcycle shop while I was in college, but at least I learned how to take care of my bike."

"You rode a motorcycle?"

"Yeah, a '94 Harley Soft tail. I started working when I was 15 to earn the money for it. My dad has it in storage."

"He couldn't have been too crazy about you having it. Sexy as my mental image of you in black leather may be, according to what I saw on 'E.R.,' the nurses called those things donor cycles. If Alexis were out on one, it would scare me to death."

"He wasn't happy about it, but when I started working, he figured I'd never be able to put enough money together to buy one, and by the time I did, I was over 18, and he couldn't stop me. He did get me the helmet most highly rated for safety and made me promise to wear it."

Castle shudders. "Good for him for that. Alexis is almost 18. I hope she doesn't get the urge."

"You could always buy her a pony, Castle," Kate suggests. "If I could have had one of those, I'm not sure I would have been as anxious to get a cycle."

"Wouldn't work. First time she had a chance to ride one at a children's zoo, she couldn't stop sneezing. Turns out, she has an equine allergy. Do you think buying her a car for graduation would do it?"

"Or you could give her your Ferrari."

"Bite your tongue. Whatever vehicle she gets is going to be the safest thing on the road."

* * *

Kate pulls into a lot at a supermarket on Columbus Avenue. "Naomi's apartment is only a block from here. This is probably the closest place to park."

Castle looks longingly into the window of a bakery, on the walk to Naomi's flat. "I know this place. They have the best chocolate cheesecake in the city. The German Chocolate cake isn't bad either."

Kate's tongue rounds her lips. "Maybe we can stop after we check out Naomi's apartment. Naomi's keys weren't in her purse. We'll have to get the super to let us in."

Mrs. Zywicki puffs up the stairs, trailing Kate and Rick to the fourth floor. "My husband would take you up, but he's out fixing the gate to the airshaft. Walter called the elevator repair guy, but Morey said the landlord stiffed him last time he came and won't make another service call until he gets paid." She stomps on a roach. "The bastard didn't pay the exterminator either."

"You could call the office of the City Ombudsman," Kate suggests. "New York has a 'Bad Landlords' statute, and that office is in charge of enforcing it."

The hefty woman wheezes up another step. "I do that, I lose my job, but I can always slip a note to Mrs. Marsters. If there's anyone who knows how to complain, she does. She's called my husband three times already this week. Thanks, Detective. It's already open," Mrs. Zywicki notes as she attempts to turn her key in the lock.

"Step back, Ma'am," Kate urges, pulling her weapon. "You too, Castle." Kate steps guardedly into the entryway of Naomi's apartment. She can hear sounds of a metal zipper from a nearby bedroom. A man is digging into a soft-sided suitcase on the bed. "Police! Hands behind your head."

The man does as Kate orders and turns around. "Colin Hunt, Detective-Inspector, Scotland Yard. If you check the pocket of my jacket, you'll find my identification."

Kate signals to Castle, who followed a few steps behind her. "Take a look."

Rick pulls out a leather case containing an identity card. "This says Colin Hunt, Detective-Inspector, Kate, but he could be lying. The accent could be fake too."

"Wouldn't it be easier for me to play a New York cop?" Colin asks, flattening his vowels.

"Except that now you sound more like Boston and patrician Boston at that," Castle retorts. "You should have stuck to being a Brit."

"I'll take you to the precinct," Kate decides. "We can check out your identity from there. But even if you are who you say you are, you'll still have to explain what you're doing in a dead woman's apartment." Kate's phone dings with the sketch of the man seen leaving Naomi's hotel room. Her fingers tighten on the grip of her gun as she regards the image. She throws Castle her cuffs. "Put these on him. He's going to have to explain a hell of a lot more than what he's doing here."

* * *

Kate regards Colin through the wire grid of his holding cell. "We can't reach anyone at Scotland Yard who can verify your identity. Apparently, they have a skeleton crew on the time of night it is there, and the computer lists a Colin Hunt as at a conference in Washington D.C., not in New York."

"Right. They're five hours ahead. Someone who knows me should be available in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time."

"You have a bigger problem than the time difference, Mr. Hunt. Our M.E. fumed Naomi Allen's body. There were two fingerprints on her throat. Your fingerprints."

"Right over the carotid artery, I imagine. I didn't kill her, Detective. I was checking for a pulse."

"And then you stayed to search her room? Most people would have called 911."

"She was dead, Detective. There was nothing I could do for her. But she would have left me a message. I was looking for it."

"And why would she have done that?"

"Because Naomi was the daughter of my first partner. She was like a sister to me. But she was in trouble; she called me in D.C., begging for help. She thought someone was after her, that's why she was at that hotel instead of her apartment. I took the first flight I could get to New York. I was too late to help Naomi, but I can catch her killer. I owe her that much."

"Unless you're handing me a pile of bull and that killer is you. We'll talk after I've heard from Scotland Yard again."

"Anything?" Castle asks, handing Kate a freshly made cup of coffee in the break room.

"I don't know. It could be a lot if Hunt - or whoever he is - is telling me the truth. We'll probably know in a few hours. Let's go back to the loft. At least we can work on Bracken. I'm beginning to wish we'd made it back to the bakery. I could really use something chocolate right now."

"I called Alexis and had her put in a pan of brownies, triple chocolate with peanut butter, my own recipe."

"Babe, sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I suspect that you'd be drinking coffee that tastes like battery acid and digging in your desk drawer to see if any M&Ms spilled out of the bag you used to have in there. But I don't plan on you needing to find out."


	24. Chapter 24

Too Close

Chapter 24

Castle groans as he stares at the screen of his laptop. "Kate, 'Bracken' engenders over 21 million hits on Google. Ooh, did you also know that it's a type of fern? The plants are poisonous to cattle."

"And the one we're hunting is poisonous to people," Kate responds grimly, pulling up a chair next to him at his desk. Didn't you say we were going to use Lexis-Nexus?"

"Right," Castle acknowledges. "I was just getting the lay of the land. Bringing it up now. The citations aren't in the millions, but whoever does Bracken's P.R. must be damn good. Do you have the list of Coonan's kills that we're trying to match, on your tablet?"

"I do."

"Start reading them off, and we'll see what we get unless you want to get fresh coffee first."

"The only thing I want fresh is a key to nailing Bracken. Edward Lawrence, March 2008. He was an ecologist who specialized in the statistical analysis of plant growth."

Keys click under Castle's fingers. "That tracks, Kate. That was about the time that Bracken started painting himself as an environmental advocate and presenting plans for development around the country, including upstate New York, where he appears to have considerable support. Before he died, Lawrence expressed some concern about the ecological soundness of what Bracken was proposing."

"James Todd, senate staffer for Shumron, 2009. He was researching the increase in prescription opioid addiction in New York."

"Another possible hit. The Moss family invested in a pharmaceutical company making opioids."

After Castle can find no correlation for the next six names cites, Kate reads, "Lionel Spitzer, an attorney working for the Southern District of New York - investigating a developer named Sunderland for money laundering, Jan. 5, 2010." Kate wraps her arms around herself. "That was two weeks before I had to shoot Coonan."

"On the mark, Kate. The Sunderland hotels hosted events for Bracken. Sunderland and Bracken were also tennis partners."

Kate's fingers curl tightly around her tablet. "We should start with Spitzer. Bracken has had the least amount of time to cover his tracks. Dad has an associate, Meghan O'Donnell, who worked SDNY. We should talk to her and see if she can tell us anything about how Spitzer's investigation. It's 11 now, but I can call in the morning before we go to the precinct, and set up a meeting.

* * *

"Detective Beckett," Captain Gates announces as Kate stows her purse in the drawer of her desk, "I received a call from New Scotland Yard. Your former prisoner is who he says he is, and his supervisors think very highly of him. He'll be consulting on the investigation of Naomi Allen's murder. He's waiting for you in the lounge."

"Sir," Kate protests, "what about your objections to emotional involvement in a case? Hunt my be too deeply invested in this one to be objective. Apparently, he and our victim were quite close."

"You'll be lead, Beckett. You'll be making any pertinent decisions, but Detective-Inspector Hunt will be assisting. It's a matter of extending professional courtesy to our colleagues abroad, and if he knew Naomi Allen that well, he might be able to provide useful insights."

"What about me, Captain?" Castle queries.

Gates rolls her eyes. "You can continue to shadow Detective Beckett on this case, Mr. Castle, but stay out of the way."

Hunt springs to his feet as soon as Kate enters the lounge. "Well, Detective, it appears that we are going to be partners."

"I'm her partner," Castle declares. "You're consulting - temporarily."

"Then may I suggest we return to Naomi's apartment? I believe I was about to get my hands on the message she left for me." Hunt pats his pocket. "Your captain graciously returned my effects. I have Naomi's key."

* * *

Hunt is barely through the door before sprinting for Naomi's bedroom and the suitcase he was unzipping. Pulling a knife out of his pocket, he slits the lining and digs out a key. "Here it is! She was always hiding things in linings as a little girl. I'm glad she never broke the habit."

"What's that a key to?" Castle asks.

"I was hoping that Detective Beckett, or perhaps your forensics laboratory would be able to tell me," Hunt responds.

"Kate holds out her hand, and Hunt presses the key into it, rubbing his thumb against her palm and drawing a dark look from Castle."

Kate examines Naomi's clue. "It's not to a bus locker."

"There's a gym next to the market where we parked, yesterday, Kate," Castle notes. "It might fit a locker there."

"Right," Kate agrees, "good idea, Castle."

* * *

Kate pulls a photograph of a well-dressed man with slightly graying hair, out of the locker, and shows it to Hunt. "Do you recognize him?"

"No," Hunt admits.

Castle glances over Kate's shoulder. "I do. Kate, remember I told you that I was at a fundraiser with where there were some guests from the British consulate. This was one of them. I had the feeling that Naomi might have been trying to get close to him, but his wife was there with the kind of eagle-eyed stare of a woman whose spouse is prone to wander. Naomi might have tried to make contact again. Perhaps she succeeded."

Kate turns the photograph over. "What are these numbers?"

"If they're related to operations at the consulate, perhaps someone there can tell us," Castle suggests. "We'll need them to put a name to this guy anyway."

"If we start sniffing around the consulate, we might tip him off," Hunt worries.

"I doubt that we'll have to go farther than the reception desk," Castle argues. "Reception almost anywhere tends to see all the comings and going and knows more about what's going on than functionaries inside do. At least that's a conceit I've used in two of my books."

"We'll see if we can translate fiction into fact, Castle," Kate decides. "Let's go."

* * *

Miss Eisner-Hill pats her gray curls as she studies the two handsome men flanking Detective Beckett. "Yes, of course, I recognize Nigel Wyndham. He's our Deputy Consular General. He isn't here right now. He does business about town, or he may be at the airport."

Hunt steps forward. "Was he planning a trip?"

"Not that I know of, young man, but he does have charge of the diplomatic pouches. If something is particularly sensitive, he will pick it up himself."

Kate turns over the photograph, pointing to the number. "Would this have anything to do with his duties?"

"I believe it might," Eisner-Hill replies. "Every pouch has a manifest number. I don't pay much attention to them, but the format looks right. Mr. Wyndham's assistant could probably tell you more about that. Should I call him?"

Hunt paints on his most winning smile. "Miss Eisner-Hill, there's no reason to interrupt his work. We're only tying up a minor loose end of our investigation."

"No reason to burden Mr. Wyndham either," Kate adds. "But you know how it is with paperwork. Every 'I" dotted and every "T" crossed.

"I do indeed, Detective," Eisner-Hill assures her.

Castle lifts the older woman's hand, brushing her knuckles with his lips. "Thank you. You've been very helpful, Miss Eisner Hill."

"Eliza."

"Eliza," Castle repeats.

Castle is typing an inquiry into his phone before the trio has even left the consulate. "Got it! Those figures are the manifest number of a diplomatic pouch. This site breaks them down to specify time, airline, and airport. We should be able to decode this in no time."


	25. Chapter 25

Too Close

Chapter 25

"That diplomatic pouch is scheduled to go out from Kennedy Airport on Pan Global airlines," Castle reports. "If Nigel Wyndham signed the paperwork, it will be sitting in baggage storage until it's loaded on a plane to Uganda."

Kate shakes her head. "I don't know how that helps. We can't get a warrant to look at a diplomatic pouch, and we can't just ask to see it. Access to shipments like that is going to be restricted."

"Naomi may have died over what was in that pouch," Hunt argues. "We can't just let it go. I could go in and say that I have a temporary assignment in the U.S. to check UK diplomatic shipments. Whoever is standing guard probably won't have any idea that detective-inspectors don't function in that capacity."

"They would if they've ever read a British mystery story or watched BBC or public television," Castle retorts, "but I don't have anything better."

"It could work," Kate considers. "You know how long it took to establish Hunt's identity. By the time anyone can check again, he may find out what we need to know. But aren't you going to be in trouble when your people find out what you did?" she asks, turning to Hunt.

"It's always easier to apologize than ask permission," he shrugs. "Finding Naomi's killer is what counts. I'll deal with whatever comes down on me later."

* * *

"Detective-Inspector, huh?" the guard scrutinizing Colin Hunt's I.D. reads.

"That's right," Hunt affirms.

"Ya know," the guard continues, "I've never understood what you guys do. My wife talks about it all the time. She watches Endeavor and Louis, and all those shows on Channel 13, but I could never get into them. Seems like they only show the good stuff when they're asking for money. I suppose you don't have that problem in your country."

"We have to pay to watch decent American shows on the Telly. Wherever you go, someone always has a hand out."

"You've got that right," the guard agrees. "My wife is going to get a kick out of hearing that I met a real detective-inspector from Scotland Yard. I don't suppose you'd sign something for her."

"Be happy to," Hunt replies, as the guard hands him a blank claim form.

"Just make it out to Mitzi."

Hunt signs with a flourish and hands back the paper. "Now, I really must examine your holding area for our diplomatic pouches."

"Sure," the guard agrees, unlocking a wire cage, and pulling out his cellphone. "While you're in there, I'll give Mitzi a call."

Hunt's stomach lurches. He'd better get his job done quickly, in case Mitzi is better informed than her spouse.

Hunt scans the parcels to find one with a number matching that on Naomi's photo. When it's on none of the smaller packages, his eyes fall on a large wooden crate. Pulling his knife out of his pocket, he prays that he can pry the thing open before Mitzi educates her clueless husband. Damn! He'd been expecting drugs or some other contraband, but not Stinger missiles. What the hell did Naomi stumble into?"

* * *

"Stinger missiles, what would a diplomat want with Stinger missiles?" Castle wonders as Hunt relays what he saw.

"Let's start from the beginning," Kate proposes. "Clare Panchard told us that Naomi's modeling career was on the skids. Hunt, was there something that happened in her life that would make her put herself in the crosshairs of an arms dealer?"

Closing his eyes, Hunt draws a deep breath. "Naomi was all about her career until she met a young man from Doctors Without Borders. They fell in love and were going to be married, but his helicopter was shot down while he was on a mission in Uganda."

"By a Stinger missile?" Castle queries.

"I don't know, but given there were rogue militias in the area, it's possible. But why would Nigel Davenport be involved in smuggling missiles to Uganda, and why would he be sending them from the United States?"

"The answer to the first question is money," Kate replies. "Castle and I did some digging into him while you were pulling off your charade at JFK. Turns out, he's had a string of business failures but has expensive tastes. His wife has the money, and she keeps him on a pretty short leash."

"I saw that in action," Castle adds. "And money might also be the answer to the second question. I've written about Stinger missiles often enough. They are American made and very popular with both legitimate armed forces and terrorists. Someone here may be paying Wyndham to send them to Uganda the one way a shipment would never be inspected. The question is, who?"

"Clare Panchard said that Naomi wanted to talk to Biggy Slims," Kate recalls.

"Maybe she crashed his party to confront him and ended up dead for her trouble," Castle continues.

Kate pushes out of her chair. "I'll put Ryan and Esposito on Biggy's background, and then we need to bring him in."

* * *

"Could I get a picture of me in cuffs?" Biggy Slims inquires, from his seat in Interrogation. "It would be good for my street cred."

Kate slams a file on the table in front of him. "You need something to build up your cred, don't you Biggie? You've had one disaster after another. Fifty Cent made a fortune on Vitamin Water, but you bombed on Gangsta-Fizz. And your last two albums are gathering dust in a warehouse." She points to the chains around his neck. "The gold, the girls, the cars, all cost big money, and from what we can see, you're not making it. So what's paying the bills?"

"Biggie crosses his arms over 10 pounds of chains. "I don't have to tell you nuthin."

"You're right, Biggie, you don't, because I'll tell you. Naomi Allen came to your launch party. You told your bodyguard to let her in to dress up the place. But your girlfriend saw you talking to Naomi and thought she was hitting on her man. There's a video all over the web of her slapping Naomi's cheek. Naomi died with the bruise. But Naomi wasn't hitting on you, was she? She discovered that your cousin works at a base where Stinger missiles went missing. Your cousin was charged with dereliction of duty because the weapons disappeared on his watch. She was calling you out for selling missiles, like the ones that killed her fiancé, to Ugandan terrorists. You had Naomi escorted out of your party, and you had her followed. Then after your guests left, you went to Naomi's hotel and killed her."

"You can't prove that," Biggie claims.

"Oh, no?" Kate retorts. "An ATM camera caught Naomi walking toward her hotel. One of your flunkies wasn't far behind her. And a few hours later, a traffic cam caught your car pulling up to the hotel. The M.E. found marks from a ring on Naomi's neck - a ring like the one you're wearing. And when the results come back on the DNA on the skin under Naomi's fingernails, they will prove that it came from those scratches I can see on your hands. She went down fighting, Biggie. She fought you to her last breath."

"I want a lawyer!" Biggie demands."

"That," Kate replies, "is the smartest thing you've said."

* * *

"Going back to your conference in D.C.?" Kate asks when Hunt requests a ride to the airport.

Hunt hefts the strap of his duffel bag onto his shoulder. "I wish. I've been called back to London to face the music. The home office takes violating the sanctity of diplomatic security quite seriously, regardless of motive. But at least Nigel Wyndham is being charged with illegal arms dealing. And Naomi can rest in peace. Knowing that I can handle whatever penalties I'll face. And Castle said he'd put a character based on me in his next book. You two have a strange partnership, but it seems to work."

"Yes," Kate agrees, a comforting warmth flowing through her body, "it does."


	26. Chapter 26

Too Close

Chapter 26

Meghan O'Donnell slides into the bench of a back booth at Mitch's Diner, opposite Kate and Rick. "Jim tells me that the chili sizes here are excellent."

"I hope so," Kate smiles, "He's been eating them since we started coming here after games when I was eight. But the burgers are good too, and the shakes are out of this world."

Rick signals to a waitress in a ruffled apron and sensible shoes that they are ready to order. "Jim said that you want to discuss the Sunderland case," Meghan begins, after the server retreats.

Kate rubs her thumb over the smooth surface of the utilitarian knife in her place setting. "We do, specifically into Sunderland's relationship with William Bracken."

Meghan's breath whistles through pursed lips. "Wow! That case was looking like it would become a real hornet's nest. Bracken was putting pressure on the Attorney General to deep-six the investigation, but General Holder pushed back and told our boss to go ahead. Lionel Spitzer had a confidential informant. None of us knew who it was, but apparently, he was digging through the layers of the shell corporations that Sunderland set up to protect himself. When Lionel was killed, the information dried up. We had enough to get an indictment, but not necessarily a conviction, and the case went on the back burner."

"So, the records still exist?" Kate presses.

"The paperwork should, at least. Right after Lionel was murdered, our system was infected by a worm. Even the backup was corrupted. Most of what we had about Sunderland was not only erased - which might have been recoverable - it was overwritten multiple times with zeros, permanently destroyed."

"Did you ever find out who was responsible for the infection?" Castle asks.

"We know how it got on the computer. Someone dropped a USB drive in the parking lot. One of the assistants found it and thought it might have something important on it. He plugged it into his machine. Our virus blocker didn't detect the invasion, and by the time we realized we'd been attacked, it was too late."

"It would take someone with real skills to code a worm like that," Kate comments.

"So our IT people and the FBI said, but they were never able to trace the origin."

"Has anyone tried lately?" Castle queries. "There are cybersecurity tools that exist now that didn't a couple of years ago. I was researching them for a plotline."

"There's only so much money in the budget - Bracken is one of the senators who makes sure of that - and the district has other priorities. I believe the drive that carried the worm is still in storage. Lionel's paper files are archived, boxes of them. Digging through them will be a hell of a job, but since the case relates to a murder of one of our own committed in N.Y.P.D. jurisdiction, I don't expect you'll have too much difficulty getting clearance to try."

* * *

"You're going to need a good story for Gates to get her to back you up in pursuing the Spitzer murder," Castle warns, as Kate contemplates entering the lion's den. And it better not whiff of investigating your mother's murder."

"You're right, Babe," Kate agrees, "but without going through the captain, we'll never get access to Spitzer's records - or be able to get that USB drive to take to your cyberwizard friend. Does the bestselling author have any ideas?"

"Thinking. Give me a minute. Ooh - I've got it! Remember that case that Bruce was investigating that went cold - the bank manager who alerted the treasury to possible money laundering? Just tell Gates that you were having dinner with an associate of your father's, and a similar occurrence came up in conversation. That's true as far as it goes. Since Bruce retired and you don't have another active investigation right now, there's no reason you shouldn't pick up the reins of his case. Who knows, Kate? The cyber meddling is similar enough that the cases might be related.

Kate's face brightens with her grin. "You know, Babe, that just might fly."

* * *

Del Lipchitz pulls an ancient laptop from the bottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets that supports the wooden door that serves as his desk. "I got this in 1996. It can handle USB but has no capacity for anything except a wired connection - which I'm not making. I can get the code off your drive without running a risk of letting the worm burrow into my system. It may take me a while to go through it to pick up a signature - if there is one.

"And I really could use a pastrami sandwich on that bread that's half rye and half pumpernickel. Mustard, no mayonnaise, extra pickles."

"And your choice of beverage would be?" Castle prompts.

"Mountain Dew Kickstart, man. Got to get the motor running. They keep a supply for me at the kosher deli around the corner. They have the bread, too."

"In which case, we shall return promptly with the appropriate fuel for the engine of your genius," Castle responds.

"Don't forget the extra pickles," Del urges.

"Dreadlocks and a taste for kosher pastrami," Kate observes, as she and Castle make the short trip to fetch the computer guru's meal of choice, "very New York City."

"I know, right?" Rick agrees. "Del's mother is from Jamaica, and his father is from Borough Park. They met at Columbia and fell madly in love at a time when it wasn't easy for interracial couples, even in New York. Del's had to prove himself every step of the way. He did his undergraduate work at MIT and got his doctorate at Cal Tech. He came back to New York because his parents still live here. You wouldn't know it to look at his office, but he's a cybersecurity consultant for some of the biggest companies in the world. He just kept the jerry-rigged desk to remember scratching his way up."

"The way that you framed your first rejection letter for 'In a Hail of Bullets.'"

"Something like that, I guess. Anyway, Del's one of the best of the best. If anyone can identify the author of that worm, he can. Hopefully, that will lead us to Bracken."

"From your mouth to God's ears," Babe.

* * *

"She's good!" Del proclaims admiringly, loudly sucking the last of his drink from a king-sized paper cup.

"She?" Kate repeats.

"Uh-huh. Jane Chen, almost a fellow graduate of MIT, but she got bounced for trying to hack the newest project at the time, in the artificial intelligence lab. She's gotten a lot better over the years. I've seen strings of code that I've recognized as hers, but nothing that would have conclusively nailed her in court. I've used my tools to analyze several familiar sequences in your worm. They point right at her."

"And where would we find Jane Chen?" Castle asks.

"She runs cybersecurity operations for the Sunderland hotel chain. She has an office at their hotel near Central Park."

Rick and Kate look at each other as the pieces fall into place, before Castle turns back to Del. "Thanks, man. You may have blown our case wide-open."

"I don't just work for food, Rick," Del reminds him. "You'll get my bill - and you know what happened to the computers of clients who tried to stiff me."

Castle shudders. "You will receive my remittance quite promptly."


	27. Chapter 27

Too Close

Chapter 27

"Do you want to go see Jane Chen?" Castle asks as he and Kate leave Del's office.

"Not yet. If we go barging into a Sunderland facility, it could give the store away before we have what we need to go after Bracken for Spitzer's murder. We need to dig into Sunderland and his connections to Bracken."

"Back to the computers?"

"You have another idea?"

"Maybe. I read a letter to the editor in The Ledger about a year ago, from a Sunderland employee who was complaining that Sunderland laid off their most experienced catering staff to save money. The writer was putting out a call for the fired employees to come together and look into forming a competing enterprise. That company may exist by now, and if it does, disgruntled employees who had a chance to listen in to conversations over drinks and dinner could be a fount of information. We could interview them about throwing a party."

"A year ago? How do you remember that?" Kate wonders.

"Because I was considering using caterers as a murder ring for hire. I thought about having them administer slow-acting poisons, so they wouldn't be connected with their crimes. I couldn't get the details to mesh, so I ditched the idea. But anyway, what about the party?"

"What kind of party? You just had your birthday," Kate reminds him, "And we were in the middle of solving Naomi Allen's murder. You barely had time to blow out the candles on the cake Alexis baked for you, and you didn't even play any April Fool's pranks."

"I know. This was the first year I can remember that happening, but all the more reason to have a belated birthday celebration," Castle insists, "or we could call it a Springfest - spirit of renewal and all that. A new catering company won't worry about why we're having a party, as long as it can be sure we can pay. It would be fun, Kate, and a chance for you to take a breath. You haven't slowed down for more than a couple of seconds since you got out of the hospital."

"All right, Castle, look into a party, but I still want to run a deep search on Sunderland."

"Of course. Detective Beckett leaves no stone unturned."

* * *

Kate absently taps her pencil on her desk in the bullpen as she stares at her computer screen. "Sunderland has some history. He inherited his first hotel from his uncle, but the place had seen better days. His occupancy was one of the lowest in the city. He almost went out of business until there was an infusion of cash from an undisclosed investor."

"He turned his hotel into a laundromat for filthy lucre," Castle concludes.

"Looks like it," Kate agrees, "but it was a relatively small operation and didn't attract attention. Then Sunderland expanded, building or taking over hotels all along the East Coast. His organization is privately held, so he didn't have to reveal the names of his investors."

"There have to be records, something from Spitzer's confidential source. There might be something like that in all the boxes of paper Meghan told us about."

"Castle, searching through all of that could be worse than going through Coonan's things. We might have to go page by page."

"Are you saying you don't want to do it, Kate?"

"I'm not saying that at all. As you said, 'no stone unturned.' It's just that if you'd like to back off and take a breather for a while, I wouldn't blame you."

"No way, Kate, but I set up our meeting with Experience Pays Catering for late this afternoon. That will be a break of a sort, for both of us. Maybe," Rick continues, rubbing his hands together, "they'll have samples."

"I'm more interested in sampling information than food."

Rick wiggles his eyebrows. "Maybe we'll get lucky and do both."

* * *

Castle thoughtfully savors the offered artichoke dip. "That is excellent. I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised. I understand that your staff formerly worked for the Sunderland hotels. I've attended several functions at some of them, and the food was adequate but hardly exceptional."

Rosie Gomez rolls her eyes. "Don't get me started about Sunderland. I busted my butt in culinary school to learn how to put out the best, but Sunderland was more interested in putting out the cheapest. The hotel made us do whatever we could to shave every nickel off our costs, even if the quality suffered. And the thing is, Sunderland isn't exactly operating on the edge. The hotels get a lot of business in political functions, fundraisers - that sort of thing. I was in charge of several events for Senator Bracken, but there was enough booze flowing - and other things - to keep the guests charged up and far from caring much about the food."

Kate's fingers curl reflexively around the strap of her purse. "Are you saying there were illegal drugs?"

"I saw a few bags and pills change hands, but I don't know what they were. I was better off, not knowing. I didn't need that kind of trouble. And I can tell you that I was almost glad when they let us all go. We've gone back to doing what we were trained to do, serve food that we and our customers can be proud of."

"And you're succeeding," Kate notes. "Your reviews are outstanding. That's one of the reasons Rick and I came to you."

"We will do our best to make sure that you and your guests enjoy every bite," Rosie assures them.

Rick's barely set foot in the parking lot adjoining Experience Pays Catering when Kate thrusts her fingers into the soft locks at the back of his neck and presses her mouth to his for a deep kiss. "That was brilliant! We have a connection between Sunderland, Bracken, and a drug operation."

"You think Bracken was laundering some of his drug money through Sunderland hotels and getting it back as political contributions?" Castle asks.

"That's exactly what I think, Castle. Bracken was there when Sunderland needed money, and they forged a partnership. From the way Rosie described the Sunderland operation, he's not in business for his health. He's not going to give away a cent he doesn't have to, but Bracken has him by the short hairs, so he's continuing with the operation."

"Which would mean that if we get enough on Sunderland, we can squeeze him to give us information on Bracken to try to save his own skin."

"Or at least give him some hope of saving his skin. If we dig up anything conclusive on the money laundering, SDNY isn't about to let it go."

"Which brings us back to taking a deep dive into the works of Lionel Spitzer."

"With a better idea of what to look for than Spitzer had," Kate adds.

Rick draws her against him, suddenly wishing they had the pink caddy back. At that moment, he can think of all sorts of fascinating ways to use a roomy backseat. The loft, however, is not far away, and Alexis will be attending both her French club and a study group that evening. He and Kate can stage a private celebration - with no catering required. His lungs suck in air. He'll just have to last until they can reach the privacy of his abode.


	28. Chapter 28

Too Close

Chapter 28

Castle's hand is sweating as he fits the key into the lock. The lights are out. Good. He knew Alexis wouldn't be there, but Mother isn't either. He's tempted to carry Kate across the threshold, but that move would hold implications he's sure she's not ready to handle. Having a few hours together in an empty loft, pumped with the adrenaline of discovery, is more than they've had in a while.

He gives a moment's thought to opening a 2000 Châteauneuf du pape, but Kate is already heading for the bedroom. Who needs wine when he'll have the taste of her lips? Ooh, that sounds like a line in a romance novel. Maybe he's channeling Rook. That would be perfect if Kate is channeling Nikki, but he's not about to jeopardize the moment by bringing up that possibility. Kate being Kate, is tantalizing and exciting enough.

Stopping momentarily to dig in the back of a dresser drawer, Kate continues to the in-suite bathroom, humming and leaving Rick staring after her in confusion as he drops his jacket on a chair and begins unbuttoning his shirt. He gapes as she emerges in a silk teddy that appears to be barely held together by satin ribbons.

Rick gulps, attempting to recover his voice. "How long have you had that stowed here?"

"Since the bomb in Boylan Plaza. Lanie insisted on taking me shopping to get me out of my head, but until now, I just didn't feel like …"

"You could see the light at the end of the tunnel?"

"I guess. And Castle, as much as I've loved making love with you, getting lost in you, I didn't feel like I was ready to go all in. Do you understand?"

"I think so. I'm trying to. So are you ready now?"

"I am." Kate reaches for the buckle of his belt. "If we can get the rest of your clothes off."

"You mean I don't get to pick some enticing garment of my own to titillate your senses?"

Inserting her fingers beneath Rick's shorts, Kate strokes the rapidly heating flesh beneath. "This is all the titillation I need."

The rest of the barriers to Rick's body hit the floor at light speed, and he pulls at the tie between her breasts. "Tit for tat."

Kate gasps as his mouth finds the upward-surging pink tips desperate for his attention. Her knee rises of its own accord to flank his hip as her need presses against his want. They fall back on the bed together, every nerve firing, every millimeter of skin demanding touch. Tongues seeking, mouths and fingers are everywhere until the urgency of joining is impossible to ignore.

The room retreats as they are aware only of each other and the wildness of their desire. Pre-shocks rise on the Richter scale until a massive quake overcomes them, and they lay entwined as the aftershocks slowly fade.

* * *

Castle gradually comes to awareness as the light streaming through the window is fading. He reaches for his watch, which he had barely managed to place on a bedside table — eight o'clock. Alexis will be wandering in before long. She usually has pizza at her study group, but it never stops her from wanting a snack when she comes home. He hears a soft rumble from Kate's stomach. The artichoke dip and tidbits Rosie Gomez offered were delicious, but not nearly enough to fuel the conflagration that erupted between him and Kate.

Kate reaches for him as he pushes himself up in bed. "Where are you going?"

"Kitchen, as soon as I cover up a little. What does your protesting tummy crave?"

Kate pulls herself up next to him. "Now that you mention it, I could use something to eat. Maybe…"

The wham of the front door slamming open and the stomping of teenage feet has Rick hurriedly reaching for his discarded clothes. If I am not mistaken, that is the sound of severe teenage angst, possibly in need of parental comfort."

"Yeah, you should go see what's going on," Kate urges.

Rick finger combs his hair on the way up the stairs to Alexis' room and knocks softly. "Can I come in, Pumpkin?" Knuckling away the tears staining her face, Alexis yanks open the door. "Hey, what happened?" Rick asks.

"My group was looking at some stuff for colleges for next year, and one of the guys brought up the Stanford website. There was a picture of Ashley - and his girlfriend Sasha - with a little blurb about how the two economics majors had found love at first sight, looking at the same paper in a poster session."

Rick tucks his daughter's head under his chin as he wraps his arms around her. "That's got to sting, but you broke up with him almost six months ago. Sounds like he moved on."

"That's just it, Dad. I broke up with him last October, but the poster session where they met was in September. That's why I couldn't get him on the phone when you and Gram were being held hostage in that bank, and I needed him. He was cheating on me!"

Rick hugs her more tightly. "That is a bitter pill to swallow."

"Is this how you felt when Mom moved in with that director in Beverley Hills?"

"I don't know, Pumpkin. Your mother had spent so much time away from me - and you - anyway; there wasn't much left between us. I think that knowing she was with another man, was just the excuse I needed to accept that our marriage could never work. But we had some great times together. And we had you. I could never regret that, regardless of the pain that came with the breakup."

"Ashley and I had some good times together too. But I guess some relationships just aren't meant to last."

"No, they're not," Rick agrees. "But that gives us a chance to search for the true loves of our lives, the ones who are the yin to our yang."

"Is that what Kate is to you, Dad?"

"Kate and I are still uncovering a lot about each other, but I believe she just might be. Listen, how would you feel about a batch of my special smiley-face cheer up pancakes? I can call you when they're ready. Extra chocolate chips?"

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds nice."

Kate is putting a quart measuring cup full of milk into the microwave when Rick comes into the kitchen. "I thought I'd make some hot chocolate. When I was staying here after Dunn blew up my apartment, Alexis made some for me - with double marshmallows. She said it always made her feel better when she was upset."

Rick presses a kiss to the tender notch at the base of Kate's neck. "You know something? I think I just fell in love with you a little more."

"And when you went charging upstairs like a white knight to rescue your daughter from distress, I felt pretty warm and fuzzy about you too."

"I think some hurt needs time to work itself out, but then you know about that better than most, don't you, Kate?"

"But you've been charging to my rescue too, and we've been working it out together. Thank you, Castle."

"Mortal danger aside, it has been my very great pleasure, but I hope you didn't use up all the milk. I'm going to need it for the pancake batter."


	29. Chapter 29

Too Close

Chapter 29

Kate groans as her phone buzzes at five-thirty a.m. Esposito sounds sleepy but insistent. "Beckett, you've got to get down to Wall Street. We've got a body in a parking garage."

Kate pushes up on her elbow and rubs her eyes. "Oh, God! Perlmutter's on this shift, isn't he?"

"He's already on his way there."

"And he's not crazy about late-arriving detectives. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Castle stirs beside her. "I wish killers had the courtesy to wait until a decent hour. I'll leave a note for Alexis and go with you."

"Come when you're ready, Babe. Take your morning time with your daughter - then bring coffee. But I need to get down there now."

* * *

Kate looks on as Perlmutter bends over the body, "Wow, what was this, an animal attack?"

Perlmutter springs up to face her. "Those are human bites, Detective Beckett. But whoever made them didn't just bite. He dug in and twisted like a wild animal. I haven't heard of any cases in this area, but I'm going to test the wounds for the rabies virus, just to be sure."

"Did he have I.D. on him?"

"A wallet. The name on the license was David Lock. I gave it to Ryan to put in evidence. And there was a torn piece of lace in his hand. I bagged it for CSU."

Esposito strides up, accompanying a blanching man in a $5,000 suit. "Beckett, this is Mike Matthews, the victim's boss."

"Mr. Matthews, do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt David Lock?"

"I don't encourage my traders to bring their private business to the office. Arbitrage takes a lot of concentration. But he had a colleague he didn't get along with, Charlie Coleman. Charlie lost a promotion to David and didn't take it well. David accused him of keying his car, but he couldn't prove it. There's no video in this garage."

"When does Charlie come into work?" Kate asks.

"Four a.m., same as David did. Our traders catch the action on the Asian exchanges." He points at a nearby vehicle. "That's Charlie's car, but he didn't show up for work."

"Do you have an address for Coleman?"

"Accounting will have one." He consults his watch. "They don't work the same hours as the traders, but they should be arriving soon."

* * *

Kate is about to climb into her unit outside the crime scene when Castle arrives with her coffee. "Perfect timing, Babe. I'm going to call on our No. 1 suspect."

* * *

"Leave, for your own safety!" Charlie shouts as Kate raps on the door. Pulling her weapon, she nods to Castle to kick in the door. Kate lowers her gun as she realizes that Charlie is chained to the radiator. "Please, shoot me - before I turn."

"Turn into what?' Castle asks.

"A zombie! He bit me! I could turn at any moment. Please, in the head. It has to be in the head."

"Charlie, I'm a police detective, I can get you some help," Kate explains. "Just tell me what happened."

"That thing! That horrible, disgusting thing! It was beating and biting David. When I got out of my car, it saw me and bit me too. Please," Charlie pleads, "I could be turning now. If you won't shoot me, take me somewhere safe, where I can't hurt anyone."

"We'll get you somewhere safe, Charlie," Kate assures him. "I'm going to call a unit to take you to the precinct right now. And I'll get a doctor to look at that bite."

"No doctor is going to be able to help me," Charlie declares. "Just hurry and get me locked up."

* * *

"Well?" Kate asks after Perlmutter has finished examining Charlie's bite mark.

"He didn't bite himself. He has a crooked incisor, and the teeth that bit him were in perfect alignment. They also appear to match the bite marks on David Lock as if the same person attacked them."

"You mean the same zombie," Castle corrects.

"There are no such things as zombies, Defective Detective," Perlmutter insists. "When you're dead, you're dead. I've had hundreds of bodies come through my morgue, and none of them has run off hunting for brains, yet."

"Zombies don't run, they shamble," Castle protests, "and just because it hasn't happened, doesn't mean it can't."

"Beckett!" Ryan calls, gesturing toward Tech, "there's something that you have to see. And you're going to love this, Castle."

Castle follows Kate to a position in front of the big screen in Tech, while Ryan starts a video. "This is traffic cam footage from down the street from the crime scene. See that figure that walks right in front of that car?"

"It looks like he's wearing a shirt with lace cuffs," Kate notes. "David Lock had a piece of lace in his hand."

"Right," Ryan agrees, "but there's another angle where we can get a look at his face."

Kate's mouth fall's open as the image shifts to decaying flesh. "And that," Castle announces triumphantly, is a zombie."

"It looks like a zombie, Beckett," Ryan points out.

Kate rolls her eyes. "Movies are full of zombies. It's makeup. We've had criminals wear masks and makeup before. Sorry, Castle, there's a human under there. His disguise is a step up from a clown or a surgeon, but it's still just a disguise."

"All right, assuming that it is, why would anyone go to that much trouble to kill a Wall Street trader? I can understand someone getting revenge for losing money, but why dress up as a zombie? Why not just shoot Lock? There has to be more of a story than that. Following the theory espoused by the great and unfortunately late Stephen Cannell, if not revenge over money, the other possible motives would be over a woman or to cover up another crime. Did you run Lock? Does he have a record?"

"Esposito did," Ryan says. "He's clean."

"Which should lead us," Castle asserts, "to _cherchez la femme_ \- or _l'homme_ \- whatever floated Lock's boat."

Kate nods contemplatively. "I think you may have something there, Castle. Let's check his cellphone. If he had it on him, it should be with his effects at the morgue. If Lock had a significant other, she or he would have been a frequent call."

Castle sighs. "Just the person I wanted to encounter again so soon, Perlmutter. He'll get there just ahead of us."

"Castle, he doesn't hate you that much."

"Only when he's breathing. You heard what he called me; the 'Defective Detective.' Not complimentary - but good alliteration."

"If you like, you can wait in the car for me while I get the phone."

Castle squares his shoulders. "No, I will proudly beard the lion in his den. Unless, of course, David Lock rose from Perlmutter's table and attacked him to eat his questionable gray matter. Ooh, or we could get an undead Perlmutter shambling around, decomposing before our eyes - although it might take a while to tell."

"Come on, Castle. When we get to the morgue, the dead will be dead, and Perlmutter might be able to offer us more information along with the phone. He may not be easy to get along with, but he is a good M.E. He was able to rule out Charlie Coleman."

"That's true. Poor guy, he's still terrified. I wonder if there's a time limit on turning. I should look it up before we go. In any case, it would be good to know."


	30. Chapter 30

Too Close

Chapter 30

"Looks like you lucked out, Castle, with Perlmutter going off to have lunch with his twin brother," Kate observes.

"If you consider knowing that there are two Perlmutters running around, luck. But at least Perlmutter One's assistant was able to give you Lock's phone. Any promising femme fatales on it?"

Kate scrolls through Lock's call history. "Maybe. There's a Greta Mastroianni he talked to not long before he was killed. I'll check the texts. Ooh!"

"Something juicy?'

"It's not all spelled out, but it looks like Greta cheated on her fiancé, Tom, with Lock. She broke it off when Tom found out about it, but Lock didn't give up. They had a meeting planned for the night before he was killed."

"Which would give a jealous fiancé more than enough motive. Is there a last name for Tortured Tom?"

"No, but Greta should be able to tell us who he is. There can't be too many Greta Mastroianni's in the city. I'll have the boys track her down and pick her up."

"The Perlmutters didn't have a bad idea about going to lunch. You want to stop somewhere?" Castle asks hopefully.

"Maybe we can grab a quick hot dog or a sandwich or something. I want to use my lunch hour to get my hands on Lionel Spitzer's records, or at least some of them."

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. When we were at the SDNY, I saw a food truck on the corner, Vonny's Famous Vittles, as I recall. With any luck, Vonny will be there with something reasonably edible."

* * *

Kate gazes suspiciously at her paper-wrapped lunch. "This Moo Possum Roll better not be real possum."

"I believe that the 'moo' implies a bovine origin, but I will step gallantly forward and taste mine first," Castle offers. "Mm, corned beef - more Irish than Jewish. I believe Vonny may have a touch of the Old Sod. We should tell Ryan about this truck."

Kate takes a tentative bite. "Yeah, this is good. Maybe some of these would get Kevin off those bean burritos Esposito got him hooked on."

Castle holds up crossed fingers. "One would hope. With the gas Ryan puts out, I'm surprised no one's accused him of violating the Geneva Protocols. Anyway, it shouldn't take long to finish these. If we do it while we walk, you should have a chance to sweet-talk your way into access to Spitzer's legacy."

* * *

Castle struggles under the load of three banker's boxes while Kate puts two more in the trunk of her unit. "We'll drop these at the loft on the way to the precinct," Kate decides. "The boys are on their way in with Greta Mastroianni. We won't have time to look at them anyway, and it's better if we don't try to go through them under Gates' nose."

"Ugh! What an image. That will be easier than trying to bring them into the 12th anyway. Eduardo has a handy-dandy luggage cart. He can take them up. He's used to the arrival of strange packages for me."

"With your love of mail-order, I'm not surprised. I can't believe that you get stuff from the Sky Mall catalog."

"Hey! That night glow toilet seat is great. No need to turn on the lights for a nighttime pee, and you can tell whether it's up or down in the dark."

"That is helpful," Kate admits. "And I don't have to look at Boba Fett."

Castle sticks out his ample bottom lip. "I'm sure the bounty hunter would be deeply wounded to hear you say that, but I'll let it pass. Any particular strategy for questioning Greta?"

"Unless the boys have told her, she may not know that David Lock is dead. Either way, I will offer my condolences for her loss and see where the conversation goes from there."

* * *

Greta grabs a tissue from the box that Castle holds out and dabs at her eyes. "I feel terrible! I told David that I couldn't see him anymore." She holds out her left hand, displaying a sizable diamond. "Tom and I are engaged, and David died knowing I chose another man. Do you have any leads on who killed him?"

"We were hoping you might be able to give us one," Kate replies gently. "Was David afraid of anyone?"

"He always said that the arbitragers he worked with are a bunch of barracudas who would kill their grandmothers for a nickel."

"We are checking out his co-workers. How about your fiancé, Tom? He must have been upset that you spent time with another man," Kate suggests.

"Yeah, Tom was upset, but I told him that I was committing myself to him," Greta insists. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have accepted his ring."

"I'm sure that's true," Kate assures her, "but we have to look into every possibility, no matter how slight. Do you have Tom's contact information?"

"Sure," Greta agrees reluctantly, "I can give you his number and his address, but I'm telling you he had nothing to do with David's death."

Kate's phone dings with a text just after Greta gets on the elevator to leave. "Perlmutter has his preliminary autopsy report on David Lock."

"Don't tell me we have to go back to the morgue!" Castle pleads.

"We don't. He's emailing it, and he's attaching a report from CSU."

"Anything enlightening?" Castle asks as Kate scrolls through the report displayed on the computer screen on her desk."

"Not much in the autopsy. Lock was beaten to death, no surprise there. Perlmutter says from the angle of the blows, the killer was probably about 6 feet tall. The analysis of the DNA from the saliva in the bites is still pending. But there's something from CSU that we need to act on right now. Lock had smears of theatrical makeup on him, most likely transferred from the killer, and there are only a couple of outlets for it in Manhattan. We should go check them out before we go talk to Tom Williams. If he's a customer, that would be pretty strong evidence against him."

* * *

"We call Grungy Gray our desiccation special," Mick Dungeness confides. "It's very popular with the zombie hordes."

Castle's eyes light up. "What zombie hordes?"

"They're a kind of cosplayers. They have a convention now and then, but they make up regularly for zombie tag. That's where the zombies chase people they call normals. If they catch them, then the normals are zombies in the next game. The players give me flyers to hand out with times and places." Mick reaches toward a stack of paper at the end of the counter and hands a sheet to Kate.

Kate peruses the listings. "There was a game a few hours before David was killed. And there's another one tonight."

"Tell me we're going," Castle urges.

"We'll see, Castle. One more thing, Mick. Did you sell any Grungy Gray to a Tom Williams?"

Mick taps on his computer keyboard. "We keep a mailing list of our customers. We like to send them announcements of new shades and tips for achieving unusual effects. I don't see a Tom Williams on it, but I think I may have heard a couple of players mention a Tom. They were talking about him selling special stuff, but I don't know what they meant."

"Castle, we are definitely going to the zombie games tonight," Kate proclaims. "And the players better have something to say to us besides, 'Brains!'"


	31. Chapter 31

Too Close

Chapter 31

"This neighborhood is creepy enough," Castle comments, gazing at an abandoned factory, "but I don't see any zombies."

"Patience," Kate counsels, "the zombie walk isn't scheduled for another few minutes - and zombies don't move very fast."

Castle grins at her. "I'm glad you're finally getting into the spirit of things, Kate."

"Only as far as catching our killer is concerned. Wait, do you hear that?"

"I believe that is the shambling of zombie feet coming this way."

Holding up her badge, Kate orders the faux horde to stop, but the costumed crowd continues to surge forward, as another group comes at Rick and Kate from the other direction. "Police, I said, stop!" Kate yells as Rick takes a defensive position back to back with her.

"Kate, they won't stop coming!"

"Screw this!" Kate exclaims, drawing her weapon and firing a warning shot over the heads of the oncoming mass. "I said, stop!"

A zombie in the lead pulls up short. "Is that a real gun? I thought you were part of the game, a new kind of normal."

"It's a real gun, and I'm a real cop investigating a real murder."

One of the costumed crowd smiles goofily while standing slightly off-kilter. "Wow, that's heavy."

"Are you on something?" Kate prods.

"Me, no. High on life."

"Or undead," Castle corrects.

"The too-happy zombie giggles. Yeah, sure, right."

"I could take you to the hospital for a test," Kate threatens, "but right now, I'll just take your name. I'll need all of your names. And," she pulls out a print of the suspect from the traffic cam footage, "I need to know if any of you recognize this zombie."

The leader of the group regards the photo. "Yeah, that's Kyle Jennings. He was on our last walk. He makes it for most of them, but I haven't seen him tonight."

Pulling out her phone, Kate studies the customer list Mick Dungeness emailed to her. "Kyle Jennings is on here, and Dungeness had his address," she tells Castle, "I'm going to send the boys to pick him up."

* * *

"You're sure he's dead?" Castle queries, staring at the costumed body on Perlmutter's table.

"Your B-team called the paramedics, and they couldn't find any life signs, Castle. Neither could I. There are no indications of trauma either. It looks like it was a drug overdose. I already took a blood sample to check, and run his DNA against the saliva we found in the bites on David Lock." Perlmutter holds up a scalpel. "I was about to start my autopsy. Are you two planning to observe as I expose his organs?"

"No thanks, Perlmutter," Kate interjects as the M.E. makes the first cut. The body yelps, springing up and running out the door of the autopsy room. "Castle, call for backup," Kate yells as she pursues.

Castle turns to Perlmutter. "Is there a code for zombie on the loose?"

Perlmutter gulps. "Dial nine."

* * *

"Why am I here?" Kyle Jennings asks as Kate and Rick stand over his hospital bed. "Did I get mugged or something?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't remember killing David Lock?" Kate asks.

"What? Who? I don't even know a David Lock, and I wouldn't kill anyone. The last thing I remember, I was getting ready for a zombie walk. It's just fun. No one gets hurt."

"That's crap, Kyle," Kate accuses. "The bite marks on Lock's body match your teeth, and your DNA was in his wounds. Look at your hands. Your knuckles are bruised from beating him to death. But if you tell me why, I might be able to talk the D.A. into giving you some kind of a break."

"This is all a horrible mistake," Kyle insists.

"Then, explain why we have solid proof that you committed a murder," Kate demands.

Kyle sinks against his pillows. "I can't."

"It's open and shut," Kate declares as she and Castle walk down the hall of the hospital.

"Detective Beckett!" Perlmutter calls, coming the other way.

"What are you doing here, Perlmutter?" Castle inquires. "All the patients here are alive."

"I can work on the living," Perlmutter informs him. "I just prefer not to. The dead are a lot quieter. But I am here to look in on Mr. Jennings. His blood tests showed a fascinating cocktail of drugs, scopolamine, for one."

"The zombie drug?" Castle asks. " I looked into it when I was studying Voodoo. There are all sorts of stories of it being used for revenge by evil practitioners because it can be absorbed through the skin to produce a zombie-like state."

Perlmutter rolls his eyes. "You shouldn't believe everything you read, Castle, but scopolamine can be absorbed through the skin. It's used in patches to prevent motion sickness. Larger doses can produce much more unpleasant effects."

"Like memory loss?" Castle inquires. "And making someone appear dead?"

"The memory loss, yes," Perlmutter admits, "and he would have been highly suggestible, but it took the rest of the drugs he ingested to simulate death. And they would have been much slower acting. He could have committed the murder before they took effect. And if he hadn't been found, he would have been dead eventually."

"So it's possible that someone drugged him and told him to kill David Lock, and he wouldn't remember?" Castle wonders. "And the un-undead tell no tales."

"It is possible, Castle," Perlmutter concedes.

* * *

Kate bangs her palms against the steering wheel. "Damn! Castle, I thought we had Lock's murder sewed up."

"Look, Kate, I know you want to dive into Spitzer's records so you can nail Bracken. You of all people know what it's like to battle with the lack of closure over a murder. I can't even imagine what Kyle Jennings must be going through right now."

"You're right, Babe. It has to be tearing his guts out. Hey! Mick Dungeness overheard the zombie game players talk about a Tom providing something 'special,' and that zombie we talked to at the walk was high as a kite. It all fits! If Tom Williams was selling drugs to the zombies, he could have set up Kyle Jennings to kill David Lock."

* * *

Six-foot tall Tom Williams lounges smugly in his chair across the table from Kate and Castle, in interrogation. "I admit, I knew Greta saw a David Lock when our relationship was going through a bad patch. But we got past that. We're going to get married."

"I saw the ring, Tom," Kate informs him. "Quite a rock for a law student. And the cops who picked you up, tell me you have a pretty nice apartment too. That costs big money in Manhattan. Where'd you get it?"

"The ring was my grandmother's, and I have student loans. I'll be graduating first in my class from Columbia, and there are already several prestigious firms interested in taking me on as an associate. I shouldn't have much trouble repaying them."

Kate turns to Castle. "The Bar Association isn't usually keen on admitting drug dealers."

"And he will have trouble finishing his semester from a jail cell," Castle adds.

Tom drums his fingers on the table. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you, Tom?" Kate presses. "I pulled your DMV photo. Several of the zombie walkers identified you as selling a boost that enhances the zombie experience. They also said they saw you with Kyle Jennings the night before David Lock was killed. Kyle remembers buying drugs from you on previous occasions. You gave him just what he needed for you to send him after David Lock, and slowly die afterward. The medical examiner tells me that it was a pretty exotic mix. I have people searching your apartment as we speak. What do you think they'll find, Tom?"

"I want a lawyer," Tom insists.

Kate nods. "You're going to need one."

* * *

"Kyle's going to have a hell of a time," Rick murmurs, spooning Kate after they finally make it to bed. "Even knowing that Tom drugged him, he'll still struggle with taking David Lock's life."

Kate presses herself into the warmth of his body. "I know. The guilt will be incredible. Roy died because of me, trying to protect me. I couldn't deal with that. At first, Kyle will barely be able to put one foot in front of another. But therapy can help."

"You were in therapy, Kate?"

"It took me a while to admit that I needed it. After I was shot, I said what I needed to say to pass my psych eval. I even blamed you for keeping me away from those gunmen. I tried to convince myself that if you hadn't, I might have been able to save Roy. But after I returned to work, the reality of it all came crashing in on me. You remember how shaky I was. So I went back to Dr. Burke. I still see him sometimes. Therapy can't solve everything, but it did help me put things in perspective. I hope that someday, Kyle will be able to do the same."

Castle wraps her more tightly in his arms. "Me too."


	32. Chapter 32

Too Close

Chapter 32

"I'm getting impatient, Maddox," Bracken warns. "I'd expected you to take care of the extortionist using Roy Montgomery's file, long before this - and eliminate Kate Beckett."

"Sir, I have nothing to go on," Maddox protests. "The phone he called you with was a burner, available in hundreds of places in the New York City area. And we don't even know that he called you from New York. I've been checking on contacts with Beckett and Castle, but as far as I could tell, neither one of them has been in touch with someone with the resources or the guts to try to come up against you."

"How about Roy Montgomery's contacts?" Bracken presses. "His files may still be at his home. If there was someone he trusted enough to send those files, there should be a record of it. Retrieve whatever information is there, Maddox, and complete your mission."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Kate is rubbing cream into her hands to compensate for the moisture pulled from her skin by endless sheets of Spitzer's notes when a text lights up her phone. "Babe, we have a body in an alley."

"Would you be to upset if I admit I'm almost glad?" Castle asks. "Lionel Spitzer took copious notes, for which we should be grateful, but his handwriting sucked. I don't know if reading it is harder on my eyes or my parietal lobe."

"Parietal lobe?"

"The part of the brain that deciphers handwriting. Alexis did a paper on perception for AP Bio. I helped her put her diagrams together. Anyway, I think we could both use a change of scene. Maybe the killer left prints and DNA, and this will be a slam dunk."

After noting the address, Kate shoves her phone into her pocket.

* * *

"The victim is Orlando Costas," Esposito announces. "Lanie found dog tags on him. I checked, he recently left the service with an honorable discharge."

"So, what was he doing in an alley?"

Lanie pushes up from kneeling over the body. "Bleeding out. He had two bullet wounds, and they look like they came from two different caliber guns. The man was unpopular."

"I located a neighbor who heard a shot and a car pulling away," Ryan reports. "I've ordered the traffic cam footage."

Lanie hands Kate a bagged piece of paper. "I found this in Orlando's pocket. It has an address on it."

Biting her lip, Kate holds the evidence up for Castle to see. "You recognize whose house this is?"

Castle nods grimly. "The Montgomery family."

* * *

Shakily, Evelyn Montgomery opens the door to Kate and Rick. "I called in a break-in. The uniforms just left."

"Are you all right?" Castle asks.

"I think so. I'm just glad the kids weren't here. They're visiting Roy's mother. I wasn't supposed to be either. I usually work late when the kids are gone, but there was a power outage at the office, and I walked in on the theft. I've had a carry permit since Roy's been gone, and I had one of his backups in my purse. The thief had everything in a backpack. I told him to put it down and leave, but he pulled a gun on me. I shot at him. I think I got him in the shoulder, and he dived out the window. I turned the gun over to the uniforms."

"What caliber was it?" Kate asks.

"A 38. It was the one Roy kept in his ankle holster."

"Lanie said that one of our vic's wounds, the nonfatal one, looked like it came from a 38," Kate notes. "But he didn't have a backpack. What did he take?"

"Records, files, Roy's old laptop, the one I use for recipes now - and our wedding album."

Kate's chest tightens. "Did it have Michael Smith's picture in it?"

Evelyn nods. "I put it back after you returned it to me. What I can't figure out is why anyone but me would want old pictures."

"I think I know," Kate replies, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Castle struggles to keep up as Kate strides quickly back to her unit. "Kate, it could just be a coincidence. Costas might not be connected to Bracken."

Kate yanks open the car door. "Do you really believe that, Castle?"

"I want to."

"So do I, but there's no way I can. And we have to warn Michael Smith. " Kate regards a new text as she pulls out her phone. "The boys checked Orlando Costas' address. His girlfriend Marisol was there. They're bringing her in. She has a boy with her that she claims is her son with Orlando. She hasn't told him Orlando is dead."

"Ooh. That's going to be tough - for both of them. I can keep the kid busy while you talk to Marisol," Castle offers. "I have a new version of Angry Birds on my phone."

"Thanks, Castle. It will be easier to question her if the boy isn't in the room. But I'd better call Smith now."

* * *

"Don't you have any games with soldiers?" Beto asks. "My Popi was in the army. His friends were too."

"Did you ever meet any of them?" Castle asks, downloading "Battle of the Elvin King."

"I met a couple when Popi took me with him to the Veteran's Center. He was checking the bulletin board where they put up jobs. They all were. They were nice to me. They bought me sodas out of the machine sometimes."

"Did any of them ever talk to your Popi about going on a mission for them, Beto?"

"Not at the Veteran's Center. But there was a man outside who looked like a soldier too. He told Popi he might have something for him to do, but I didn't hear what it was. While they were talking, Popi gave me money to get a hot dog at the corner from the man with the cart with the blue umbrella. Later I heard him tell Mamita that someone had offered him a lot of money for a job."

"Did you hear the man's name?" Castle asks, handing his phone to Beto.

"No. But," Beto points at the game on the screen. "he looked a little like this fighter - tall."

"I bet you could tell someone who draws really well how to make a picture of him. You can hold on to my phone until you finish," Castle offers. "Maybe you'll make it to level 2."

"If he draws slow, I can make it to level 3," Beto declares.

"Get anything out of Marisol?" Castle asks while mother and son are being escorted out of the precinct.

"Not much," Kate admits. "She said that she and Orlando have been having a tough time and he said he had a job that would dig them out of their hole, but she had no idea what it was or who gave it to him. She claims he swore to her that it wouldn't be dangerous. She told me she needs some time to talk to Beto."

"She sure as hell does," Castle agrees. "But he's a smart kid. I think he knows something is off. I believe he knew it all along. And he helped me find a present for you."

"Castle, what?"

Castle sweeps his hand toward the sketch lying on Beckett's desk. "That is the face of the man who recruited Orlando Costas - and possibly the face of the man who killed him."

Kate traces her fingers over the rough lines. "Now, we just have to figure out who's wearing it."


	33. Chapter 33

Too Close

Chapter 33

"I can have Ryan and Esposito - especially Esposito - show that sketch around the vet's center where Marisol said Orlando was going to check job postings," Kate muses. "Espo will relate with the other vets. Damn! I wish our facial recognition software worked on sketches, but it isn't even all that great with photos."

"We know somebody who has better toys," Castle reminds her.

"You mean you want to take the sketch to the CIA, Castle?"

"Absolutely, Kate. They owe us - big time."

"You have a point, Babe, I just hate going back there. And with the hoods they put on us, we don't even know where headquarters is."

"No, but I still have my contact number for Agent Gray. He can call someone to take us in. This is a matter of national security, Kate. Bracken has tentacles that reach overseas and probably into the drug trade there. And a senator can be privy to classified information that, if in the wrong hands, could jeopardize intelligence operations. It's as much in the Company's interest as it is yours, to take him down."

"You make the case eloquently, Castle. I hope you can be as convincing where it counts. In the meantime, I'll give copies of the sketch to Ryan and Esposito."

* * *

Analyst Tran points to the images rapidly flicking across his screen. "With a sketch, we can't trust some of the variables in the algorithm for photographs - the distances between the features. We'll be going more on general shapes. That can yield a lot of false positives. But knowing that he was tall and probably in the service does narrow it down some. Still, you two should get comfortable. This could take a while."

"I'll go get some fresh coffee," Castle offers, leaving Kate to stare at the modern version of a flipbook. She'd checked with Esposito. Several vets admitted to having seen the man in the sketch lurking around, but none of them knew who he was. Espo balked when she claimed she couldn't reveal her confidential source, but he'll have to get over it. Bringing down Bracken will be worth dealing with a grouchy detective for a while. It would be worth dealing with a bullpen of them.

Castle hands her a paper plate with a sandwich, along with her coffee. "Peanut butter and apple butter; both government surplus. Your tax dollars at work. There's a big hunk of surplus cheese in the fridge in the breakroom, too, if you're interested."

"Castle, all I'm interested in is identifying the shooter."

* * *

Ryan pauses the traffic cam video taken two blocks from the alley, where Orlando Costas was killed. "Hey, Javi! I might have found something." Ryan points as Esposito comes in, swallowing the last of a doughnut and brushing powdered sugar from his shirt. "Look at the side view of the driver."

"That tattoo on his neck is Cazadores ink, but that neighborhood isn't Cazadores territory."

"Right," Ryan agrees. "Maybe Beckett is on the wrong track. If Orlando was a member of the Cazadores, the robbery at the Montgomery's place could have been gang-related."

Esposito shakes his head. "That doesn't track, bro. A buddy of mine sent me Orlando's service record. He was squared away. And he was looking for work. Why would he be stealing for a gang?"

"I don't know," Ryan admits, "but Marisol told Beckett they were having money problems. Maybe he thought he could make a fast score to tide his family over until he got a legit job. Anyway, we need to go talk to whoever is driving this car. I should be able to get at least a partial plate from another angle. And how many guys have a ride tricked out like that?"

* * *

Diego Gutierrez shrugs. "Yeah, I was talking to Orlando Costas. He used to be Cazadore, but he left when he knocked Marisol up. He said he needed a better life for his kid. He was strong. He took being jumped out like a man. I was surprised when he said he needed help and asked for a loan. I told him no, but that I would have some work for him if he came back for good. That had to be the deal. He asked for a meet."

"And did you meet him?" Esposito presses.

"I tried, man, but this tall white dude got there first. I saw him shoot Orlando, so I took off. There was nothing I could do."

"You could have called 911," Ryan suggests.

"And have that dude shoot me too, or have the cops arrest me for killing Orlando? I liked Orlando, but I had to look out for numero uno."

"This white guy, what did he look like?" Esposito queries.

"I don't know, I only saw him from the back, but he knew how to use that gun. Sounded like a rifle. Orlando didn't have no chance."

"You see anything else?" Ryan pushes.

"Yeah, after he shot Orlando, the white guy grabbed his backpack. Whatever Orlando had, Whitey was willing to kill for it."

* * *

Castle is drowsing in a chair next to Kate when Tran's shout cuts through his haze. "Got it!"

Kate springs from her seat to stare at the screen. "Who is he?"

"Cedric Marks, aka Cole Maddox. Ex-special forces. Dishonorably discharged for assaulting a superior officer. Served as a mercenary in Afghanistan as Marks before surfacing in D.C. as Maddox, source of support unknown."

Castle snorts. "I bet we can make a pretty good guess."

"Can you print us a photo and his records?" Kate asks.

"The photo sure, but there's a lot here," Tran points out. "I can give it to you on a drive."

* * *

"Cedric," Esposito smirks. "No wonder he changed it. No DMV - license or registration - for Marks or Maddox in New York."

"He is probably licensed around D.C., in Maryland or Virginia," Kate surmises.

"He wouldn't do very well getting between hit jobs on public transportation," Castle guesses. "Transit cops would look askance at someone carrying a rifle. He probably rented a car."

"In which case, the rental agency would have a record," Kate realizes. "There must be over 20 car rental places in New York City, but if he came in from D.C., he might have used one at the airport. We'll check Kennedy and LaGuardia first."

"Beckett, we've got a hit!" Ryan calls across the bullpen. "A Cole Maddox rented an Impala from Budget at LaGuardia."

"Beto said he was tall. He must have been going for the legroom," Castle comments.

"He used a credit card," Ryan continues.

Kate's chair careens away from her desk as she springs upward. "Trace it! If he used it to pay for wherever he's staying, we've got his ass!"

* * *

Cole Maddox sites through his scope from his perch across the street from Michael Smith's law firm. Smith's a big deal. His office has windows on two sides. Well, the bigger they are, the easier they go down. As soon as Maddox can line up his shot, he'll send Smith to oblivion. Then he can move on to Kate Beckett. He'll enjoy that. On his flight to New York, he was sitting next to someone reading a Nikki Heat book - the super cop Richard Castle bases on Beckett. She won't be so super when Cole finishes with her. She'll just be another corpse.


	34. Chapter 34

Too Close

Chapter 34

With a clear view of Smith, Maddox breathes deeply, slowing his heart enough to shoot between beats. He checks the windsock he planted, one last time, before squeezing the trigger. His bullet flies to the window, straight at Smith, and penetrates the outer but not the inner layer of the pane. F**k! Glass on the outside and probably polycarbonate on the inside - bullet resistance without the telltale scratches on the surface.

He didn't peg Smith as being that smart. He won't make that mistake again, but now the lawyer-blackmailer will be tipped off that he's a target. He might even release his information to Beckett. Maddox can't let that happen. It's dangerous, but he'll have to go after Smith one-on-one - now.

Kate Beckett warned him, and at the crack of a rifle and spiderwebbing on his window, Smith instantly realizes that Bracken or one of his thugs has tracked him down. It was inevitable. That's why he took precautions, but now he'll have to take the ultimate one.

At the press of a button on the fob in his pocket, a section of wall slides aside, revealing a one-man elevator, a direct route to the underground parking garage. Another touch of the fob closes the panel behind him. Smith's own vehicle may be recognizable, but he can take a company car to the jumping-off point of his escape route. He'll have a place to hunker down until he can leave the country, and enough money to be comfortable - for years if he must. But if Beckett succeeds in taking down the senator, Smith can return a lot sooner than that. On his descent to the garage, he texts her a warning that Bracken's assassin is out for the kill.

* * *

Castle watches as Kate gazes determinedly at her phone. "What's happening?"

"Someone just tried to take out Michael Smith - probably Maddox. That means he won't be at the corporate suite the boys found charged to his credit card. If we get there before he comes back, we can lay a trap for him."

"Kate, Espo's assembling a team to go in there, right now."

"We can't wait. Ryan can go with us, and Espo can follow with backup. Babe, we may not get another chance."

* * *

With a chop to the neck, the vendor pushing a cart from an alley toward the building housing Smith's law firm slumps to the ground. Another blow crushes his windpipe. Maddox takes the man's apron and ID lanyard. He stuffs the body behind a dumpster and hides his weapon in the cart. The picture on the ID looks nothing like Maddox, but in his experience people rarely check. The guard in the lobby doesn't, as Maddox nods to him and enters the elevator. Smith's corner office is on the 20th floor. It shouldn't be hard to find him. The sandwiches meant for office worker bees look pretty good. After he takes care of Smith, he may try one.

* * *

Eyes sweeping to detect any sign of movement, Kate and Ryan clear Maddox's suite. The documents and computer stolen from the Montgomery home lie on a table, with the wedding album open to Smith's picture. Weapons ready, Kate and Esposito take up positions on both sides of the door of the suite.

Kate checks her watch. "Esposito should be set up downstairs any minute. Castle, you should go join him, out of the line of fire."

"Kate…"

"Maddox may charge in here shooting, and Alexis needs her father, and Martha needs her son. I don't want to lose my partner, either. Keep your eyes open and sound the alarm if you see any sign of Maddox. You've noticed things cops have missed before. Please."

Esposito and his team have yet to arrive when Castle reluctantly reaches the sidewalk in front of Gold Crown Corporate Suites. He gazes up and down 23rd street and sees nothing that should activate his Spidey sense, but he can't calm the twisting in his gut. Espo and his hotshot pals better move their asses.

* * *

The shatter-pattern on the window, from his bullet, assures Maddox that he's found the right office. But there is no sign of Smith. He checks the en suite washroom and the men's restrooms on the floor, but the lawyer has vanished. Smith can't have gone far. The list of the attorney's holdings that Maddox has on the laptop at Gold Crown should yield the location of whatever hole Smith is hiding in. Maddox can keep his improvised cover to get there.

* * *

As a police van pulls to the curb, Esposito and six heavily armed men pour out the back. "You can relax, Espo," Castle informs him. Maddox isn't here. Kate and Ryan secured the suite and are up there in case he manages to sneak in somehow."

"He's not getting by us," Esposito declares, signaling teams to take positions to watch the back and side doors. "You should get in the van - out of the way in case anything goes down."

"There isn't even a window," Castle complains.

"There are 360-degree cameras and multiple screens. You'll be able to see everything, but Kate and Gates would both have my head if you take a bullet."

"I don't know about Gates. She's always wanted me gone."

"Yeah, but not if she has to fill out the paperwork. Just get your ass in the vehicle."

* * *

Maddox pulls the keys to the Sam's Uptown Sandwiches and Salads van out of the pocket of his stolen apron. He can pick up his rental car later, and as a food vendor, he can more easily check out any possible threats before returning to his suite. He'll park and use his scope for surveillance.

* * *

The longer Castle watches random cars and pedestrians go by with no sign of Maddox, the jumpier he gets. A van with a sandwich painted on the side is pulling into the parking lot. If his stomach wasn't protesting, he might be interested in lunch, and there's something off about the truck, but he just can't … Whoa! Uptown Sandwiches and Salads? Gold Crown is on the edge of the financial district - a good location but no one's idea of uptown. And a corporate suite hotel wouldn't have many customers this time of day. He sees a flash from the driver's side window. He's seen one like that before - at Roy Montgomery's funeral just before lead burned into Kate's chest. He has to alert Esposito - and Kate - now."

Maddox's typically slow pulse speeds up. What the hell are cops doing surrounding Gold Crown? He can't stick around to find out, but pealing out will attract too much attention. His exit from the parking lot is slow, and he pulls into traffic as smoothly as he can.

"Move it!" Esposito demands of the driver of the police vehicle, even as Kate is rushing downstairs with Ryan to meet Castle at her own unit. City traffic is too heavy to execute a high-speed pursuit, but the underpowered sandwich van isn't moving fast. Kate calls in units to block the road ahead.

Maddox knows he's trapped. He has only one way out. Even as he follows Kate Beckett's orders to get on his knees with his hands behind his head, his mind is constructing the deal he'll strike. The only way to survive failing Bracken, and avoid going to jail is to be the best friend the authorities have ever had. It's the one part left for him to play."


	35. Chapter 35

Too Close

Chapter 35

Rick lays a hand on Kate's shoulder as she pores over a page from Lionel Spitzer's records. "Kate, you don't have to do this. Maddox is under wraps, and his lawyer is negotiating an agreement with the D.A. He's going to flip on Bracken. We have the bastard."

Tightly gripping the sheet of paper, Kate turns to him. "Do we, Babe? Do you know what Bracken's lawyer will claim? That Maddox is a murderer who will say anything to save his own skin. And it's true. Maddox killed Sandwich Sam without a second thought. He's a monster. Why would a jury believe him about a bigger one? And even if they're inclined to, a judge would instruct them that the testimony of an accomplice or co-conspirator needs corroboration. I'm going to provide it - in spades."

"You've found something?"

"Bracken was up to his neck in laundering drug money. Not only that, but Spitzer's records show some of it going to accounts associated with Coonan. That should be enough to get a warrant to get into the accounts that will prove Bracken was paying Coonan, Lockwood, and Maddox."

"Wouldn't that just tip Bracken off? He doesn't know we have Maddox, but who knows how long that will last? A warrant will put the investigation out in the open."

"Not a grand jury investigation. Those are secret. And if the warrant names financial institutions, not Bracken, he won't have to see it."

Castle shakes his head. "What if Bracken decides to run when he hasn't heard from Maddox?"

"He won't," Kate argues. "He didn't when we got Lockwood. He didn't even send anyone to kill him."

"But he sent Maddox to kill you."

"Ego, Castle," Kate insists. "Montgomery tried to control Bracken to protect me. Bracken was trying to prove to himself that no one could stop him. That move was frustrated by Smith. That's probably why Bracken wanted Maddox to kill him, not just send some down-on-his-luck mark like Orlando after the file."

"All of which means that Bracken will send someone else after you."

"He probably will, but after what Maddox spilled so far, Gates put a protective detail on me 24/7. You know that. There's a unit right outside the building. I don't go out without a vest under my clothes, and when I'm at the precinct, I'll be surrounded by cops I know. I'll be all right, Castle."

"A vest won't help if a sniper aims for your head, Kate. I asked Esposito once. He said that he could take someone out that way, and so could the guys he trained with. Maybe you should be at a safe house."

"And if any of the eyes or the ears Bracken may still have in the department report that to him? He could still send someone, Castle. But maybe I should stay at my place. I Shouldn't put you or your family in the crossfire."

"Alexis is graduating tomorrow, and she's spending the night with a girlfriend to get an opinion more objective than mine as she polishes her valedictory speech. Mother is with the latest hit on her Graydar. She won't show up until Alexis' graduation ceremony. After that, I can send them both to my place in the Hamptons - which you have yet to see - until they leave for Alexis' celebratory trip to Europe. But I'm staying, Kate. The loft is more defensible than your place. Eduardo or one of his compatriots is always on watch downstairs. I have a full security system, and we can cover the windows, at least until I can get shutters for them. If you're facing down death, you're going to do it with your partner at your side."

"Castle, have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

Rick presses a kiss to her temple. "Not that I can recall, but you're free to start anytime."

* * *

Rick and Martha jump to their feet, leading the graduation audience in a standing ovation as Alexis finishes her speech. Rick wishes Kate could be at his side to witness his daughter's triumph, but he agrees that she's safer within the protection of the bullpen at the 12th. She gave him a graduation present to give to Alexis at the early family dinner at Le Cirque before Martha and Alexis take off for the Hamptons. He has no idea what's in it and promised not to peek.

* * *

Kate is trying her best to concentrate on the stack of reports Gates gave her to review. Ryan and Esposito are out on a case. She'll be able to discuss what they've uncovered with them when they return, but it's not the same as being able to survey the scene herself. And her eyes keep flicking to the empty chair beside her desk.

Castle's precisely where he should be - with his family. And as secure as she should feel surrounded by trusted colleagues, without Rick, she feels alone. She checks the time. She'll be off shift in a few hours, and the boys may be back before then to distract her. And for tonight - she and Rick have plans.

* * *

Bracken doesn't like the silence from Maddox. He doesn't like it at all. He'd been watching reports of deaths in Manhattan. The termination of the lawyer Maddox uncovered as Bracken's blackmailer might not get much notice, but if Kate Beckett were killed - that would have drawn a massive amount of press. Fallen cops are always news, and one as well-publicized as the muse of a bestselling author would be on the front page of The Ledger. It would also sweep across the web at lightspeed.

His usual sources have nothing except that the D.A.'s office is keeping a lid on something. Could it be Maddox? He checks his phone - 4 o'clock. If he leaves now, he can catch a shuttle from D.C. to New York and check things out himself. He needs to look in on Sunderland anyway. The flow of funds from his drug operations has been slowing down, and Bracken suspects the developer may be skimming. It's also about time to poach Sunderland's hacker. She's too good to be working for a weak player, and Bracken has plenty of projects that could use her services.

* * *

The servers deliver a midnight blackout cake to the Castles' table and Castle grins as his daughter makes the first cut. "The car you picked out will be delivered to the Hamptons. It will be hard to get around there without one, especially since your gram has an engagement at Guild Hall." He grabs a bag from under the table and pulls out an artfully wrapped gift. "And Kate asked me to give this to you."

Alexis carefully removes the silver paper. "Wow, 'Unbowed' by Wangari Maathai. She was incredible! And there's a journal. Kate put a note in it. 'Dear Alexis, you are a woman who can be one of many who, like Wangari, can change this world for the better. Use this to record your dreams and put them into action. I expect great things from you. It runs in your family. From one kick-butt female to another, Kate.'

"That is lovely!" Martha exclaims. "I think you picked a good one, this time, Richard. You really should do something about that."

"I know I did, Mother. But Kate and I have to vanquish a major evil-doer before I can take the next step."


	36. Chapter 36

Too Close

Chapter 36

Bracken hates airports or at least the ones that serve commercial flights. He would have lined up his usual charter and come into Teterboro if he'd had a chance, or found some excuse to fly on the government's dime. Still, the regular business flight between D.C. and LaGuardia was his fastest option. At least he had the credentials to speed through security.

There's no speeding through New York traffic. Even with the determined efforts of his limo driver, it takes him 90 minutes to reach his destination in Manhattan, rather than his home in Westchester.

He checks into the Sunderland hotel where Jane Chen has her office. The Four Seasons would be more comfortable and have better food, but he wants easy access to the hacker. If she can break into the communication channels of the D.A.'s office or the N.Y.P.D., he may be able to find out what happened to Maddox. He doesn't dare call his hitter, in case the police have the operative's phone, and a check with Gold Crown Suites gained him only a terse statement that no Maddox is registered. Even if Sunderland officially employs Chen, the developer won't have the balls to countermand Bracken's orders.

* * *

Kate can smell the popcorn even before she reaches the door of the loft. Castle wasn't kidding about watching John Woo movies. It is comforting to know that the bloodied bodies in them can get up and walk away when the director yells cut. The ones she deals with, excluding Kyle Jennings, won't suddenly awake.

Castle said he had a special, alone-together evening planned. Despite Kate's appreciation of Castle's family circle, she's looking forward to it.

Castle pulls open the door before Kate can insert her key. "Everything is ready! I have all the great concession snacks - better actually. I put real butter on the popcorn. And I have hot dogs, Raisinettes, Milk Duds, Good and Plenty, and even ice cream bon-bons." Castle draws her to him for a kiss. "That's from Alexis for your gift. She loved it."

"Alexis told you to kiss me for her?"

"Not exactly, but she did ask me to thank you. I just put my own spin on it. So, cola, root beer, orange soda, or something more potent? Your favorite red wine, perhaps?"

"They don't sell alcohol at the movies. A lot of the kids who work there aren't old enough to drink it."

"True enough," Castle concedes, "but there are advantages to private showings."

"I'll start with the soda, and we can move on to something, um, more adult later."

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

As the final credits roll, Rick pours the wine and lifts his glass. "To the days ahead. To my daughter finding her place in the world, to the toppling of the black knights, the power of the white queen and her trusty Castle, and the inevitable fall of the black-hearted king."

"Do you really believe it's inevitable, Castle?"

"Of course. For once, things are going the way of goodness and niceness, and with you leading the foray against him, how can Bracken prevail?"

"I don't know, Babe. Both sides in a chess game have queens, and they are the most powerful pieces on the board."

"Even if Bracken has one," Castle declares, "there's no way she can stand up against the indomitable might of Kate Beckett. Now, you were saying something about adult activities? What exactly did you have in mind?"

"After watching all that bloodletting, I could use a shower. If we take one together, it will save water."

"Indeed," Castle agrees. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of preserving the resources of our planet."

* * *

"Do you know who I am, Ms. Chen?" Bracken asks, striding uninvited into Jane Chen's office, where she is working late.

Jane flips strands of long black hair away from her face. "I know that while I was saving my boss' ass, I was saving yours, Senator. What do you want?"

"Your services, Ms. Chen - full time. Sunderland has risen as high as he can go. If you stay with him, you'll be stuck at his level. If you work directly for me, the sky's the limit."

"Other than the sky, which I can occupy anytime just by stepping on a plane, what are you offering?'

"Money and power. The chance to have a hand in controlling things you haven't dreamed about."

Jane hits the "Save" button before leaning back in her chair. "Those are great promises, Mr. Bracken, but a promise from a politician isn't even worth the price of a decent chai. What's the catch?"

"I've lost contact with one of my employees. He knows things that may be counter to my interests, and in the long run, yours as well. I need you to find out what happened to him."

"So hire a private investigator or call the cops," Jane suggests. "But then I get the feeling that calling the cops is the last thing you want to do."

"Very perceptive," Ms. Chen. "I believe he's being held in preparation for revealing details of certain matters I would rather he not discuss. I need you to find out for me. Once we put the matter to rest, I can guarantee that resources to access the most cutting edge technology will be at your fingertips, and your bank account will experience sizable growth."

"A politician's guarantee is worth about as much as a politician's promise, but you've made me curious, Senator, and indulging my curiosity has always been my one obsession. I will see what I can find out. Who am I looking for?"

"Cole Maddox, also known as Cedric Marks." Bracken holds out a card. "This is my private number."

"I know what your private number is, Mr. Bracken. I know the private numbers of every contact Mr. Sunderland has - along with your emails, IP addresses, birthdates, and Social Security numbers. Have a good evening, Senator. I'll let you know when I have something."

* * *

Castle rinses the lather from Kate's skin, inhaling the lingering cherry scent of her body wash. With a fingertip, Kate marks a trail through droplets on his chest. "My turn." She reaches for the bottle labeled "Rituals for a Samurai Body." "Really, Babe?"

"I'm more partial to Jedi than Samurais, but I'm not crazy about smelling like a swamp on Dagobah."

"I'm not into swampiness either, but what kind of rituals did you have in mind?"

"The kind that makes one ready for swordplay."

As Kate massages Rick with foam, her hands travel lower with every stroke until encircling her rapidly expanding goal. "Like this?"

"Wow! Yes! Pretty much exactly like that. But if you keep it up, we'll never get out of the shower."

"It doesn't feel like I'm the one keeping things up."

"Fair point," Rick acknowledges, "but then again, some rituals are very well carried out under the rhythmic beat of a stimulating spray. I'll demonstrate," he offers, as his palm cups her most sensitive zone.

Pressing against him, inviting even deeper intimate touch, she gasps as his fingers ignite an inner flame. Their mouths find each other, tongues surging and pulling back as Rick lifts Kate to him. They are one in a swirl of steam, the enclosure rattling in time to their efforts. When the end comes almost too soon, they wrap each other in towels, dispatching enough moisture to answer the call of their bed to an eagerly anticipated second round.


	37. Chapter 37

Too Close

Chapter 37

Jane Chen studies the draft of Cole Maddox's plea agreement. She's not a lawyer, but she's encountered enough legalese to get the sense of it. Maddox is being charged with one murder and one attempted murder. Any consideration he receives in terms of a sentencing recommendation is contingent on the fruits of his cooperation with the D.A.'s office and the results of an ongoing investigation of "Individual One." Maddox also declined bail in favor of protected status. Jane has no doubt as to the identity of "Individual One." It has to be Bracken. Likely, Maddox is the senator's personal wet boy. Bracken is going down, and Jane will be damned if she's going down with him. It's time to make a deal of her own - and not with the senator.

* * *

For a moment, Rick can't figure out why it's dark when he wakes up. The glowing screen of his phone tells him it is well past the time he would get up to make Alexis' breakfast - if she were at the loft. Then he remembers the covered windows. He can feel Kate stirring against his side. Like him, she's waking up more of habit than of need. She's not on shift, and if she were, there would be nothing at the precinct to pique her interest.

Ryan called during the first movie, saying that he and Esposito had solved their case - or it had solved itself. Upon finding out that her husband had cheated on her, the suspect ran over him with her car -several times- in front of witnesses. She'd confessed but pointed out that the biblical penalty for adultery is death, and using a vehicle was more practical than trying to stone the bastard. The boys didn't even need to create a murder board.

Not that Kate isn't planning to work. She and Rick both are. Kate is determined to gather as much evidence against Bracken as she can, and there are still boxes of Lionel Spitzer's notes to go through.

Even without Alexis to feed, that endeavor will call for considerable sustenance from Rick's kitchen., but he can use a morning cuddle first. If Kate is agreeable, perhaps several morning cuddles.

* * *

The hotel is accustomed to Jane's night owl hours and won't be expecting her to be in her office until late morning. Her body resists being anywhere this early, but her brain is giving it a push to get to the D.A.'s office. The guardian at the gate, Jeffrey Mantooth, displays the malaise that comes with the wearing off of his first cup of coffee, but dutifully takes her statement. "You can leave now, Ms. Chen. I'll deliver this to the appropriate person, and you'll be contacted with any questions."

"The hell with that!" Jane declares, hastily scribbling a few morsels she foraged from the records she hacked, on the back of a form. "You take this to your boss and tell him that this is just a taste of what I know - and that I'll be waiting right here until he's ready to talk."

Evan Gardner examines the few lines written on the sheet of paper Jeff apologetically hands to him. His lips thin at the sight of the names of Maddox and Bracken - underlined twice. The lid is supposed to be on tight. Not even the most enterprising reporter at The Ledger has gotten a whiff of Gardner's investigation. How the hell could someone just walk in off the street knowing about it? He's going to find out - now.

* * *

Flexing his shoulders and rubbing his eyes, Castle tries again to decipher the words on the page. "Sunderland" and "Bracken" are easy. His mind is so attuned to making them out that he could do it from across a room through a veil of smoke. It's the rest of Lionel Spitzer's chicken scratches that are confounding, but they definitely relate not only to drug money but to a political campaign. And if Castle is reading right, Durrell Sampson, Bracken's opponent, died in a "tragic" automobile accident.

There's more. There were no cars involved other than that of the victim, and the weather allowed for full visibility. A country coroner had summarily decided that Sampson had fallen asleep at the wheel, and no forensic analysis was performed. The post-mortem was either minimal or nonexistent. A few years later, the coroner retired, apparently very well fixed. Sampson's death was one of the last things Spitzer was planning to delve into before Coonan took him out. It's an investigation tailor-made for the team of Beckett and Castle - if Kate would be safe in the field. "Kate, you should see this, but I'm not sure what you can do about it."

Kate squints at the closely written lines on the page Castle hands to her, her finger pressing against her bottom lip. "Babe, there's no way I can let this go. If I can prove that Bracken killed his political rival, it would be a final nail in his coffin."

"The accident happened in Clarence, Kate. Unless my memory of Alexis' sixth-grade project on charming towns in Upstate New York fails me, that's in Erie County, northeast of Buffalo. You'd be exposed for one hell of a drive. Not only that, it's one of the few places in New York that might still have snow this time of year. The road there could be dangerous and the perfect place for another "accident."

"Castle, I don't need to go to Clarence - at least not yet. Durrell Sampson's family can't be comfortable with the way his death was swept under the rug. I can call them or Skype. If I can get permission to have the body exhumed, can you enlist Dr. Murray to take a look at it - and go over what there is in the original coroner's report?"

"Sure, Kate. He owes me. My broker managed to get him tickets to the sold-out premiere of 'Two Boys' at the Met. It's hard to imagine how, but I think opera fans are even more passionate than Trekkies. And did you know that Murray sings opera, too?"

"Castle, what you pick up about people never ceases to amaze me. I'll get on tracking Durrell Sampson's next of kin, right now. It shouldn't be hard. They're most likely listed in his obituary."

"An unfortunate place to have to look for anyone, but you're probably right."

* * *

Evan Gardner, in person, doesn't match the images of him that Jane found on the web. He looks both shorter and more commanding, with eyes that can burrow a good way into a person's skull. The way they're staring at her now is anything but friendly. "Ms. Chen, before we go any further, I need you to tell me how you know about Cole Maddox."

The tightness in her stomach retreats as she realizes that her answer need not involve any admissions of hacking - at least until she can wangle immunity. "Senator Bracken asked me to trace Maddox. I figured if the senator had a legitimate reason for needing to find him, he would have used his staff and gone through channels. And I work for Sunderland. I'm aware of whispers that his support of Senator Bracken's political rise has been less transparent than the law might demand. When Bracken approached me about Maddox, I had a feeling there was something dirty about it. But I believe Bracken has enough influence to have anything I could tell the cops, ignored. So I came to you."

Gardner nods slowly. "Uh-huh. Nice story, Ms. Chen. Now we'll figure out how I can get you to tell me the real one."


	38. Chapter 38

Too Close

Chapter 38

Evan Gardner taps the tip of his pen on his desk. "Let's get down to it, Ms. Chen. Some of my staff have been aware of you for some time. Information has flowed through leaks that never should have existed. You've been too good at covering your tracks for us to be assured of a conviction, but as the old saying goes, "A grand jury will indict a ham sandwich." Sooner or later, your turn would have come. So I am assuming that all or most of what you know about Cole Maddox, you obtained by utilizing your prodigious skills as a hacker. Given this latest incursion, I might even be able to prove that, but you are a small fish in a vast pond.

"William Bracken is a big one, one of the largest, and Maddox may not give us a strong enough line to reel him in. You may be able to add some reinforcement. So, here's the deal. You give us everything you know on Bracken, including his dealings with Sunderland, and the only thing you'll have to worry about from a grand jury is being questioned as a witness."

"Mr. Gardner, you obviously understand how ruthless Bracken is. If I take your deal, what's to keep him from sending another Maddox after me?" Jane demands.

"We have the resources to protect you, Ms. Chen, and we will. You've already demonstrated your value. But let me be blunt," Gardner continues, "you have very little choice. If Bracken doesn't decide to send someone after you to tie up a loose end, at some point, we will be prepared to charge you. The deal I'm offering is the best chance you have to keep your freedom - and your life."

Jane's stubby fingernails dig into the flesh of her palms. "Then, I guess, Mr. Gardner, I'll have to accept it."

* * *

"Damn straight I want my late husband's body exhumed!" Delilah Sampson declares. "I never believed Durrell would drive himself into a tree. He never had an accident in his life. He never even had a parking ticket. And he didn't drink either. He rarely took so much as an aspirin. His only serious vice was chocolate, and the worst damage that ever caused to a car was a few stains on the upholstery. Put your star medical examiner on the case and kick his ass to come up with something."

Kate barely manages to hold back a smile. "I don't think much ass-kicking will be necessary, Ms. Sampson. Dr. Murray is highly motivated. But I will convey your approval."

"You do that, young woman. And whatever the Dr. finds, I want to know about it."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll make sure that you do."

As Delilah's image disappears from the screen, Kate closes Castle's laptop. "Quite a woman," Castle comments.

"Yes, she is, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let her down. I'll get the paperwork started. You give Murray a heads up."

"Roger that."

* * *

Clark Murray studies the photos of the "accident" scene as well as those taken at the coroner's office. They're hardly adequate. To say the investigation was slapdash would be putting it kindly, and he can already see elements that don't add up - for one thing, the initial appearance of the body.

Natural sleep has a look that Sampson didn't display. His features were too slack - as if he took one of the class of sleeping pills that also serves as a muscle relaxant. According to what his wife told Detective Beckett, he rarely took medication of any sort. Even if his wife is unaware that he was using sleeping aids, they are hardly what a person would consume before getting on the road.

It's possible that Sampson was drugged, but that could be difficult to determine. The body was embalmed. The blood would have been replaced, and the organs punctured and drained of fluid. Still, traces could remain in the liver and kidneys. A GC-Mass Spec can readily isolate drug signatures from that of formaldehyde and the rest of the preservatives injected into a body. Once Murray receives the corpse, drug analysis will require some preparation, but nothing he can't handle relatively quickly. And whatever it takes. Castle's promise of a private session with Bruno Nicoli, master vocal coach, will be worth it.

* * *

Bracken paces his inadequate suite at Sunderland Central Park East. He doesn't believe for a moment, the hotel manager's assertion that Jane Chen has the flu. The senator suspects her disappearance from the facility had something to do with his request to locate Maddox - perhaps everything. But there isn't much he can do about it. He called the phone number the manager reluctantly turned over. No answer. She wasn't at the internet café that figured prominently in her Instagram postings either. Nor was she at the address his office found using a reverse lookup for her number.

It's one of the few times in Bracken's life that he's unsure of his next move. He could go home to Westchester. His wife would probably appreciate it if she isn't off at some charity function or at her book club. The damn woman is a Richard Castle fan.

He could also fly back to D.C., but he can't reconcile himself to leaving the Maddox matter hanging - and he wants Kate Beckett dead. Screw whatever evidence she or Montgomery's friend might have. If it were worth anything, they would have used it by now. And if it does surface, he can deny it. He might even gain voter sympathy by claiming he's harassed.

The more he thinks about that strategy, the better he likes it. William Bracken, the savior of the environment, a fighter for the little guy, is being pursued by forces that would subvert American freedom and superiority in the world. Even if he isn't attacked, he can use that argument in his campaign. He'll meet with the staff in his New York office to start putting it together. If any accusations surface, he'll be armed and ready to combat them.

* * *

"So Murray thinks Delilah was right?" Kate queries as Castle scans through an email.

"He does," Rick confirms. "He's just waiting until he can work his magic with the body to prove it. How long do you think it's going to take for him to get what's left of Durrell?"

"I submitted the paperwork. Given the ardent support of Delilah Sampson, it shouldn't take long to get the exhumation order. We might even have it today. And it doesn't take long to dig up a body."

"In the movies, it takes about two minutes, but when Alexis and I were digging up a treasure chest for a scavenger hunt, it took at least an hour - and I got blisters. A casket is a lot bigger and 6 feet down."

"I have seen some pretty hefty caskets," Kate admits, "but I'm sure the exhumation crew will have the equipment to handle whatever they find. And the word from Evan Gardner's office is that they have more evidence coming in related to Maddox and Bracken."

"What evidence?"

"That's being kept under wraps, but the case is getting stronger."

"And Murray may be able to bolster it even more. We're going to get the sonofabitch, Kate. I can feel it in my bones.

* * *

Bracken sends a single word text to a contact on his phone, identified only as Gnome. "Activating."


	39. Chapter 39

Too Close

Chapter 39

"Another invader," Gnome mutters, frowning at the brown spots on the leaves of one of his rose bushes. Well, he knows how to take care of invaders - and he knows how to be one. Bracken put out the word; now, he needs to figure out where to make his play.

Gnome studied Kate Beckett in preparation for this moment. While he can always strike at her in transit, he prefers his killing fields to have well-defined borders. From his observations, that leaves him with two likely venues - Richard Castle's loft at 429 Broome Street and the 12th Precinct. Of the two, the 12th Precinct is more to his liking. He went over the building plans. There is a basement under the entire structure, and below earth is his specialty. The space is probably used for storage. He'll find that out when he does reconnaissance. Entry is from above, but there is another way in.

The building has been renovated several times, but the structure dates back to the era of coal-fired furnaces. The coal chute has been sealed, but it still exists. Under the cover of darkness, Gnome shouldn't have much trouble reopening it. He's faced much greater challenges. The passage will be narrow but manageable and even enjoyable. He always finds pressure on his body comforting.

* * *

Kate's at her desk in the bullpen, but Castle isn't beside her. He's not far away - just in the break room typing on his laptop. He's perilously close to missing a deadline on three chapters Black Pawn is demanding, and it's her fault. All the time they spent going through Spitzer's records, Rick should have been writing.

He swears that he was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing, but she feels bad about distracting him from his work. It pays the bills, including many that he's incurred on her account. More than that, it's who he is and almost always has been.

Kate didn't start out to be a cop. When she went to Stanford to major in pre-law, she fully intended to become the first female Supreme Court Chief Justice. Part of that was out of admiration for the justice her parents, particularly her mother, brought to people through their work as attorneys. Going into the family business seemed a natural course, if not a passion.

For Rick, it's different. He's been writing almost since he's been able to hold a pencil. It's not just a way of making a living; it's been his solace through abandonment and rejection and a significant part of his identity. Even when he's procrastinating, he always has a new character or a plotline at the back of his mind. It's not fair for her to interfere with that, even if he's more than willing to let her do so.

Tapping a pencil against her desk, she stares at her phone. Durrell Sampson's body was exhumed early that morning. Clark Murray said it might take a while before he had any results to report, but she was hoping to hear something by now.

Kate hates to think about anyone getting killed, but she could still use the distraction of a case. Anything would be better than more of Gates' paperwork. Still, it's part of the job. For the fifth time, she checks her watch. She only has an hour left until the end of her shift.

If Castle finishes what he's working on, they can have some time together at the loft. Maybe she'll even make dinner while he's writing. It's way past time that she pitched in again in the kitchen, and she does have her mother's meat sauce recipe memorized.

* * *

Castle contentedly dabs a drop of spicy red heaven from his lips. "Kate, that was excellent. I don't know what sparked your culinary enthusiasm, but whatever it was, I'm grateful."

Kate starts to clear the dishes from the table. "You're welcome. Espresso?"

"Please. I can use the caffeine. I finished writing two chapters, but I still have to complete the one I'm working on. The Hammer is a good character as a sometimes friend, sometimes foil for Nikki, but I'm not happy when I'm writing about him. He's trying to cut in on Rook."

"You're jealous of an imaginary character trying to make time with another imaginary character?" Kate teases.

"Nikki is hardly imaginary; she has too much of Kate Beckett in her. And Rook has a lot of me, although lucky man that I am, you've never kicked me in the jaw."

"During our early cases together, I thought about it a couple of times," Kate confesses, "but you grew on me."

"Am I still growing on you, Kate?"

"You know you are, Babe. It's just until we get Bracken put away, I feel like my life is in limbo, you know? I can't move forward with anything."

"I understand Kate, but sometimes it feels like I'm back in the Hudson, treading water. And it's chilling."

Kate drapes herself across his thighs with her arms around his neck. "Tell you what, Castle, you hurry up and finish whatever you're going to do with The Hammer, and then we'll figure out some way to warm you up."

"Deal!"

* * *

The coal chute is welded shut. Gnome doesn't find that surprising. It was the most secure way to seal it, or at least it would have seemed secure to the N.Y.P.D. To Gnome, it's only a temporary obstacle. He pulls a plastic tube out of his toolkit.

He was always an enthusiastic student in chemistry class. The paste inside the container is his own unique formula, a combination of acids designed to eat through most metals. He thickened it just enough to stay where he applies it but retain enough moisture to allow for the free flow of ions to attack the barrier to his entry.

His concoction will take time to work, but Gnome is patient. He sticks a pair of buds in his ears and pulls out his phone. He has a mix of Strauss waltzes, all ready to go. Closing his eyes, he sways to the lilting beat of ¾ time.

* * *

Castle is on his last five hundred words. Nikki realized that The Hammer was manipulating her with his promises of rising in the ranks. Perceptive detective that she is, Nikki suspected it all along. So now she'll work around the 1PP bureaucrat.

It all makes sense to Rick. He and Kate had to work around Montgomery from time to time, and with Gates, it's almost been standard operating procedure. As by-the-book as Kate can be sometimes, she has no love of bureaucrats or bureaucracy. Nikki shouldn't either. She can console or at least distract herself by pursuing her case. That's what Kate would do, except when she lost herself diving down the rabbit hole. That's not going to happen now. No one is getting lost. He'll hold on to her no matter what happens. And from the way she's acting tonight, she seems more than willing to return the favor.

* * *

Attaching a suction cup, Gnome pulls firmly on the cover of the coal chute. The metal creaks, but the opening is before his eyes. After applying a neutralizing gel around the edges of his makeshift entrance, he forces his way in. His approach is tight, but Gnome makes it into the basement of the 12th.

He gazes around at the shelves full of bankers boxes. There's a bonanza of places to hide if anyone ventures in before he's ready to strike. The set up couldn't be much better. He shoots a rope attached to a grappling hook up the opening. He'll return when he's fully prepared to carry out his mission. This is going to be fun.


	40. Chapter 40

Too Close

Chapter 40

"All done?" Kate asks as Castle joins her on the couch.

"For now. I sent my chapters off to my editor, so I'll have some respite - until I get the revision requests."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Of course. Editors have to justify their existence. But sometimes she's right about how to punch things up or rearrange events a little. Not soothing to my ego, but helpful to my craft."

"I suppose that's not much different from getting performance evaluations," Kate muses.

"Depends on what kind of performance. Some evaluations are more disheartening than others. When responding, one must always consider the source."

Kate walks her fingers up his thigh. "Perhaps you'd like to give some input to this source."

Raising an eyebrow, Rick extends his hand to her. "I believe I would enjoy that very much and…" The ominous opening notes of the Dragnet theme interrupt. "That's Dr. Murray. He's working late; no doubt determined to earn his reward." Rick thumbs the speaker icon on his cellphone. "Clark, tell me you have good news."

"It wasn't good news for Durrell Sampson," Murray replies, "but as far as building a case that Durrell didn't just fall asleep, it's pretty substantial. I found evidence of a benzodiazepine in his liver and his kidneys. Fortunately, for my analysis, that class of sleeping pills tends to hang around for a while. Unfortunately for Durrell, the effects can be fairly long-acting. Even if he pulled over to take a nap if he felt sleepy while driving, some of the effects would still have been with him when he woke up. That would give a killer a fairly extended period to slip him the pills."

"How would someone do that?" Kate inquires.

"With a fair amount of ease. Low dose pills are sometimes crushed and put into juice or punch to calm children undergoing dental procedures. A larger dose could be slipped into an adult's beverage. Do you know if Durrell stopped at a restaurant that day?"

"No," Kate admits, but Delilah Sampson might.

* * *

"Durrell stopped at a restaurant - if you can call Kelsey's diner a restaurant," Delilah confirms. "Durrell called me from there. He dropped in whenever he went to see his buddy, Jimmy, in Clarence. It was an old hangout of his when he was a kid, and I guess he went there for sentimental reasons. They still serve grape Nehi. Durrell's always loved the stuff. He took me there for lunch once, and there sure wasn't anything special about the food."

"Would anyone in Clarence have known he would be there?" Castle asks.

"His friend Jimmy. They've known each other since fifth grade. But anyone on his campaign staff or even the volunteers would also have known where he was going. He was very good about keeping his schedule updated so that his people could set up meetings with his supporters and constituents wherever he went. He was in Congress when he ran against Bracken, and he was always ready to listen, shake a hand, or pose for a picture."

"Where was the schedule kept?" Kate queries.

"It was on the computer at his campaign headquarters. But it was also posted on a big whiteboard there and in his office."

"So anyone could have found Durrell," Kate realizes.

"Detective," Delilah replies, "that was the point."

"Castle," Kate decides, after the call, "I think it's time for me to go to Clarence."

"Kate, you're no safer now than you were when we first talked about Durrell Sampson's suspicious demise."

"But the only way I'm going to get that way is by having as much evidence as possible against Bracken. And unlike Durrell Sampson, no one has to know I'm going. I don't have to drive most of the way either. I can fly into the airport at Buffalo before picking up a rental car."

"**We** can fly, Kate. We're in this together. Besides, I have a thing for ancient diners. They make great settings for the planning or execution of mayhem. I can hang around Kelsey's and take notes while you expertly draw out information from the patrons and staff."

* * *

Gnome surveys the uniform he obtained to blend in at the 12th Precinct. He wouldn't even attempt to masquerade as a cop. Chances are the brothers in blue are all at least acquainted with each other. Members of maintenance crews, however, come and go. His coverall will be convincing, and he'll be able to carry whatever he needs either in his pockets or toolkit. He'll also be unlikely to raise suspicions if he's seen coming up from the basement. There's always something to fix in the bowels of an old building.

Now he needs to establish the current schedule for Kate Beckett's movements. As soon as he does that, he'll determine his best opportunity to strike. Bracken may become impatient, but the devil is in the details, and Gnome is determined to make sure that he won't be the one going to hell.

* * *

The puddle jumper Kate and Rick take to Buffalo Niagara Airport isn't big on legroom, but it is the first flight available that morning. Castle compensates by opting for a full-sized car. The weather forecast doesn't predict any snow, but he isn't taking any chances and insists on full traction control. No one is going to put him or Kate into a tree.

According to the navigation system, the drive to Kelsey's diner is supposed to take 23 minutes. With Kate claiming the wheel, it may take less.

Gazing at Kelsey's through squinted eyes, the place displays a certain charm. It's old-style, built to resemble a railroad dining car. The paint could be in better shape, and weeds are poking up at the edge of the parking lot, but no bad smells are floating out the door, and at least half the booths are filled with patrons.

The waitress waves Rick and Kate to a booth with benches covered in the almost iconic red vinyl, patched with tape. The Formica surface of the table is well-scrubbed but clean. Rick can imagine the eatery as a place where he would have lingered over a slice of pie and serial cups of coffee while filling the composition books in which he used to craft his stories. He can understand why Durrell Sampson could develop an attachment to the place.

When the waitress, whose nametag reads "Bess," returns with her order pad, both Rick and Kate request grape Nehis.

"I'll have to get you a couple out of the back," Bess confides. "Almost no one orders those anymore. Of course, we had to keep them upfront for poor Durrell." She sighs wistfully. "He always showed up whenever Jimmy - or anyone - needed anything. But then you folks aren't from around here. You wouldn't know anything about that."

"I'd love to hear," Castle urges. "Tales of good Samaritans are few and far between these days."

"You've got that right," Bess agrees. "Listen. I've got to put your order in and take care of my other tables, but I have a break in half an hour. If you folks eat slow, I can tell you all about Durrell."

"We will patiently savor every bite," Castle promises, "and look forward to your story."

* * *

Gnome ruthlessly yanks weeds from his garden. He's seen no sign of Kate Beckett all day, and when he called the front desk at the 12th Precinct from one of the few remaining payphones in the city, he was told she was unavailable. He reaches into his pocket for his earbuds. He needs another waltz.


	41. Chapter 41

Too Close

Chapter 41

"Bess was really passionate about Durrell and his efforts to clean up Lake Erie," Kate muses as she and Rick await their plane back to New York City. "If she was right, Bracken was pretending to be an environmental warrior while taking money from industry to slow the cleanup process down."

"From what we know about Bracken, I wouldn't doubt that for a moment," Castle offers, "even if Jimmy hadn't backed it up. I thought the poor man was going to cry.

"But you did the heavy lifting, Kate, getting Bess to remember the gas company guy who was at Kelsey's the day Durrell died, claiming a possible leak she couldn't even smell. The way she said he was crawling around everywhere, he could have easily waited for the moment he could dope Durrell's Nehis. From what Bess said, they even had his name on them."

"Uh-huh," Kate agrees. "Too bad Bess couldn't remember what the gas man looked like. It might have been Maddox."

Castle turns onto the short road leading to rental returns. "Human nature. Most people see a uniform or a company ID, and they don't look much beyond it. But it doesn't sound like Maddox's style. I could picture him wearing a disguise. He killed Sam the sandwich man to take over his identity, but Maddox seems to like his killing more up close and personal."

"Whatever minion made the kill, we know what day Durrell Sampson was drugged and how it was done. Bracken must have paid him to dope the Nehi. I'll pass on what we found to Gardner," Kate decides. "The transaction should show up in the investigation his office is carrying out. I'll call first thing in the morning.

* * *

From a parked car, Gnome watches with satisfaction as Kate Beckett and Richard Castle enter the 12th Precinct. Chances are they'll be there at least until lunchtime. He has everything in place for his operation; it won't be hard to carry it out. He can fake a leak in the water line that feeds the ice maker in the break room refrigerator. Then he can nose around to find the most likely vector for his little addition to Kate Beckett's diet.

It's Gnome's experience that in shared facilities, people tend to label their stuff. He fondly remembers how Kelsey's Diner couldn't have made it easier to take out Durrell Sampson. He'll attempt to find a way to use whatever Kate has or brings, and if it's something she shares, he'll consider it a twofer - or maybe charge Bracken more for his next mission.

* * *

Kate downs the last of the to-go latte Castle made for her at the loft that morning and tosses the cup in the trash before digging into the stack of documents on her desk. You want me to make you another one?" Rick offers.

"Maybe later. There's a maintenance guy in there fixing something, and right now, I just want to get as much of this as I can out of the way, so if there is a case to work on, I can dive into it."

"Can I help?" Rick asks. "The sooner you get rid of Gate's newest blizzard of paper, the more chance we'll have to attack something interesting while you wait for a response to the message you left at Gardner's office. You did call pretty early."

"Six a.m. might have been jumping the gun a little," Kate concedes, "but I remember both my mom and dad going into work that early to prepare for court. I was hoping to get a jump on things. Anyway," she continues pointing at a pile of forms, "you can look through all the records of interviews and see if you spot something questionable or inconsistent - anything a defense lawyer can use to attack a cop's story. Given your obsession with details, that should be right up your alley."

Castle reaches for the first few sheets of paper. "I will choose to take that as a compliment."

* * *

Studying the bottles and cans on a shelf above an obscenely expensive espresso machine, Gnome's eyes light on a pump labeled "Beckett's sugar-free vanilla." What could be more perfect than that? The intense scent and flavor of the syrup will mask any off-taste or smell, and the homemade natural venom-based poison he's giving her is practically undetectable to start with. It will also be relatively slow acting. By the time the detective starts feeling ill, he'll be long gone. Chances are no one will even remember that he was there.

* * *

"Something wrong?" Rick asks as Kate pokes at her steak. "If you don't want the rib eye, we have chicken in the freezer - boneless and skinless, the fit woman's delight."

"That's sweet, Rick, but I'm not hungry, just tired.

"Must be paper overload. At least we got through it all."

"Until Gates gives me a new batch. I'd swear I'm reviewing every interview submitted for at least the last six months. I may have to borrow a pair of her reading glasses. My vision kept blurring."

"Your muscles are tight too," Castle observes. "I can see it in the way you move. Why don't you take one of those hot bubble baths you love? We can light the scented candles in the bathroom to give you some aromatherapy, and put on some Coltrane. I can even stick Boba Fett in my office for the evening, and put your dinner away in case you want it later."

"That sounds terrific, Babe, thanks."

"Not a problem. I want to do some research anyway. What Bess said about Lake Erie piqued my interest, and I think it will pique Alexis' even more. She's been looking for an ecology cause to which she can apply her formidable efforts. The condition of the Great Lakes might be a candidate for her list - after we nail Bracken. She's not crazy about grape soda, but I don't want anyone drugging her root beer. So take your time and enjoy your soak."

"I will," Kate promises.

* * *

Gnome uses his index finger to check the moisture level in the African violets adorning the window sill of his home in Great Neck Gardens. The house is small, as his neighborhood goes - only two bedrooms. The size of the dwelling is of little concern to him. He doesn't need much indoor space. What he loves is that the lot is a third of an acre - the perfect size for a garden he can tend and enjoy himself. In addition to his roses, he has herbs that serve all manner of purposes and shrubs that yield all sorts of useful delights.

Gnome enjoys feeling close to the earth and using its bounty in the pursuance of his profession. He's never been fond of guns. Mother Nature has provided so many beautiful but deadly means of sending humans to their graves; he has no need for crude noisemakers. And when he chooses to avail himself of the opportunities afforded by commercial pharmaceuticals, he prefers deaths that are as removed from his presence as possible.

He glances at his watch. If Beckett had a morning or even afternoon coffee, she might be feeling the first effects by now, but it will take her a while, possibly days, to realize something is really wrong. By that time, it will be too late, and he can collect the second half of his fee. He's been meaning to put in a Daphne shrub, a fount of exciting toxins. This could be the perfect time to obtain one.


	42. Chapter 42

Too Close

Chapter 42

"Kate," Castle whispers, "if you're going to make your shift, you need to get up."

Kate forces open gritty eyes. "What time is it?'

"Eight-fifteen. Coffee's ready, and I put some of your leftover steak from last night into a breakfast burrito. If you want to grab a quick shower, you can eat it on the way to the precinct."

Kate grimaces. "No. I don't want anything. I'll just wash up and get dressed, and we can go."

Rick's eyebrows converge on the bridge of his nose. "Are you all right? You could call in sick. If you're coming down with something, it would at least give you an excuse to avoid Gates' paperwork."

"I'm OK, Castle, just not hungry. And if a body drops, I want to be in on the case."

Castle shakes his head and shrugs. "Whatever you say. I put a new towel on the warmer. It will be ready for you."

Kate pushes herself out of bed, her sweat-dampened sleep shirt clinging to her body. "Thanks, Babe. I won't be long."

As soon as the bathroom door closes, Rick grabs Kate's cell.

"Girlfriend, you're calling early," Lanie responds to Kate's ID.

"Lanie, it's not Kate; it's Rick."

"Then what are you doing using Kate's phone?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd pick up for me, and I need to talk to you about Kate. Something's wrong with her, and she's passing it off. She slept through her alarm this morning. She's never done that, even when she was running on empty. And last night she got 10 hours. She's not eating anything, either. She doesn't even want her coffee."

"Kate always wants her coffee."

"Exactly my point. So I was wondering if you could talk her into letting you check her out."

"Castle, you're really are worried about her, aren't you? All right. Nobody can talk Kate into anything she doesn't want to do, but I'll give it a shot. Tell her I called and that I have something interesting for her to see in the morgue. Gates' security detail can follow her over here."

"Thanks, Lanie. I appreciate it."

"I'm doing it for Kate, Castle. And if this turns out to be a false alarm, you're going to owe me a spa weekend."

"Duly noted."

* * *

"What have you got, Lanie?" Kate asks.

Lanie gestures toward a body on the table. "Look at him, Kate. He was 32 years old."

"My age," Kate notes.

"Exactly. He was a cyclist, went biking every day. Perfect fitness levels, but he rode through a cloud of mosquitoes. He got a couple of bites but told his wife they were nothing."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Lanie, are you telling me he died of mosquito bites? That's hardly a case for the N.Y.P.D."

"Kate, I'm telling you that he died of the West Nile Virus he got from mosquito bites. He developed encephalitis, and it killed him."

"I'm assuming there's a point here."

"The point is that even if you think you can fight the world, you never know. Something like a mosquito bite that seems like nothing can take you down. Rick is worried about you, and now so am I. Your color is off. It's 68 degrees in here, and you're sweating."

"Lanie, it's probably just a bug."

Lanie points at the body. "I'm sure that's what he said. Let me draw some blood, Kate. It will only take a minute. And you can put your lover boy's and my mind at rest."

Kate gazes from Rick to Lanie. "You two aren't going to let this go, are you? All right, stick me, and I can get back to work."

"Are you done?" Kate asks as Lanie finishes filling a third small tube.

Lanie nods, before staring down at the red liquid. "Wait! Your blood doesn't look right."

Castle lurches forward. "What's wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure. It reminds me of a sample I saw in the hematology lab when I was doing my residency, but I haven't seen anything like it since. I went to medical school with a guy who's one of the best hematologists in the city. I'm going to call him in on this."

"Lanie, is this serious?" Castle demands.

"Honestly, Castle, I don't know, but I promise you both I'm going to find out."

"Kate, we should go back to the loft so you can rest," Castle urges.

"Until Lanie figures out what's going on, what good will that do?" Kate demands. "I'd rather be at the precinct doing something, even if it's paperwork. If I'm just lying around, I'll go crazy. You get that, don't you, Babe?"

"Yeah, I do," Castle admits, "but anytime you need to leave, my strong arms are at your disposal. And feel free to dispatch me for anything you want."

"Just keep helping me slog through any new batch of interview reports."

"My slogging is at your service."

* * *

Dr. Albert Harry studies the magnified image of Kate Beckett's blood cells. They're striking a familiar chord, but nothing he can remember seeing since - since a trip to China! A patient was claiming to have been attacked with Gu, a poison with mystical associations. Al never saw any signs of evil spirits, but the patient had been exposed to a mixture of toxins, with hemolytic effects. The breakdown of his cells continued until counteracted. Even then, it was touch and go. How Lanie's friend could have been exposed to anything like that, Al can't imagine, but a crime lab would be more capable of running a comprehensive analysis than a medical lab.

He'll have to toss the ball back in Lanie's court for the time being so she can make sure the sample is run stat. They can go over whatever the GC Mass Spec spits out, together. Whatever the toxins turn out to be, he's praying he can find an agent to combat them.

* * *

Kate still doesn't want any part of coffee, but Rick got her to agree to some tea. A lump catches in his throat as he stares up at the pump of her favorite flavoring. He won't be needing that. But - is the top on crooked? When he filled it, it was on straight. And Oh, God, Kate said there was a maintenance guy in the break room. Damn! He should have realized! At least he can make sure the vanilla gets to the lab. Sh*t! He'll call the boys for a police escort.

* * *

When Castle's phone rings at 7 a.m., he picks it up on the first ring. It's not as if he wasn't awake. He's been holding Kate all night, continually reassuring himself that she's just sleeping. Lanie doesn't bother with a hello. "Castle, Kate's been poisoned - with something exotic. What was in her blood matches what was in the vanilla you and the boys brought to CSU. And it's a good thing you were careful with it. There were prints on it that don't match you or Kate. They weren't in the New York database, but the lab is running them against the national one now."

"The hell with the prints, Lanie. Do you know how to help Kate?"

"Doctor Harry has an idea, Castle. But what he thinks she needs isn't in New York - or even in this country. We're going to have to have it flown in from Asia."

"Lanie, whatever that costs, I'll pay for it. Fastest plane available."

"I hear you, Castle. We're already on it."


	43. Chapter 43

Too Close

Chapter 43

Castle is waiting with Kate and Lanie on the tarmac at Teterboro Airport for the plane to arrive. It's not late, but he was adamant that they should arrive early - just in case they could grab a few more precious minutes. Kate's insisting on standing rather than staying in a cushy seat in Rick's car, but she's grateful that his arm is tightly around her.

They hear the sleek jet before it arrives, using much of the runway to slow to a halt. To Castle, the few minutes it takes for fold-up stairs to descend, seem like hours or possibly days. A uniformed officer appears bearing a small cooler and approaches Rick. "Mr. Castle, I'm Captain Lee, this is the shipment that Dr. Harry requested."

Lanie immediately reaches out to take the precious cargo. "Kate, Dr. Harry could only give me an approximation on the dosage. You could have a strong reaction to the antitoxin. We should sit or better still lie you down before I give you the injection - or we could still bring you to the hospital where Dr. Harry is on staff before you take it."

"Lanie, do we have that kind of time?" Castle demands.

"I don't know. What Kate has in her blood is a unique combination of toxins. Dr. Harry couldn't predict how fast the breakdown of her cells would proceed."

"Then give me the stuff now, Lanie," Kate decides.

"The passenger seat in the Mercedes fully reclines," Castle offers. "And the emergency equipment we brought is in the trunk. I'll get it."

Lanie ushers Kate into the car, fills a hypodermic, and carefully checks for bubbles. "Kate, this may burn or sting going in."

Kate's hands fist as her teeth dig into her lower lip. "Just do it, Lanie."

Kate clings tightly to Castle's hand as Lanie injects the antitoxin. "Kate, you're flushing," Lanie notes, "any trouble breathing?"

"No, but f**k! All my muscles are cramping."

"You're getting a rash too. I can give you something for that, and a muscle relaxant will help with the cramps. At least, so far, no anaphylaxis," Lanie notes with relief, " but Castle, you get us to the hospital now. Kate's going to need monitoring for at least 24 hours, maybe more."

"Maybe we should have booked a helicopter," Castle worries.

Kate's order comes through clenched teeth. "Babe, just drive."

* * *

Castle restrains Kate's hand as she tries to scratch the hives remaining on her arms. "I'll get the lotion the allergist at the hospital told you to use."

"Honestly, Castle, you're treating me like a little girl," Kate complains.

"Something I understand how to do very well, Kate. But I'm not - not exactly. When Alexis was eight, she got a hell of a case of poison ivy. I put gloves from a Wonder Woman costume on her."

"Wonder Woman doesn't wear gloves, just magic bracelets."

"Fortunately, the company that made the costume didn't pay attention to that little detail. Also, Alexis never caught me with her magic lasso, so I wasn't forced to tell the truth."

"Anything happen while I was asleep?" Kate wonders. "Have you heard any more about the guy who put the toxin in my vanilla? And by the way, I'm switching to mocha lattes."

"Good choice. As I told you before, the boys said they found him watering a strange patch of herbs at his place in Great Neck Gardens, but other than asking for a lawyer, he hasn't said anything. The name attached to the fingerprints is Welby Snoodlake - but apparently, he goes by the appellation of Gnome."

Kate giggles. "I wouldn't want to be known as Snoodlake, either."

"Ryan called again while you were in dreamland. He said Gnome's attorney is in negotiations with Evan Gardner's office. Gardner will be sending someone up to Clarence with a photo array to see if Bess or any of the other employees can pick out Snoodlake. If so, we'll have him for Durrell Sampson's murder too, and he'll be even more motivated to flip on Bracken."

"It's all coming together, isn't it, Babe?"

"It's about time," Castle declares. "I always appreciate being able to tuck away another murder plotline for future books, but not if you're the victim. So how long do you think it will be before Gardner is ready to let you snap the cuffs on Bracken?"

"I don't know, Castle, but I hope it's soon."

* * *

Bracken studies a spreadsheet of his foreign accounts. He wishes that he could transfer some of his campaign money offshore, but there are too many controls on the funds. Even if he could manage to bypass FEC watchdogs, he'd have the Mosses to contend with. They consider the drug money they've put into propelling him into his position, a business investment. They're not about to let him get his hands on it.

He can still be comfortable - especially if he leaves his wife behind. Where he's planning to go, he can find more interesting - and accommodating - women. Getting out of the country unnoticed won't be easy. As an up and coming candidate for his party's presidential nomination, he's always under scrutiny by the press, but they are vulnerable to misdirection. If he gives a speech onshore before supposedly going out to survey the disintegrating condition of the local fisheries, they'll have no idea that he's meeting his escape craft in international waters.

Once he's free of U.S. jurisdiction, he can live the life he craves. He might even create another power base. He has more than a certain talent for that. A life of power and sex, without the complications that have ensnared him in New York and DC, could be just what he's been waiting for. Screw the Mosses and American politics. He can be ready to leave in… Damn! He left orders not to be disturbed. No one should be knocking on his office door. "I told you," he begins as he angrily pulls it open.

Bracken can feel the blood draining from his face as a chill streaks up his arms and down his back. Kate Beckett shouldn't be standing before him. She shouldn't be standing anywhere.

Kate would truly enjoy killing the senator with her bare hands, but she'll settle for announcing that she has a warrant for his arrest and cuffing him as tightly as she can. The fine-grinding wheels of justice will have to mete out his punishment, and she's going to savor every moment of watching them turn.

Castle is outside waiting, as Bracken is loaded into a marked unit for transport. "You did it, Kate."

Kate wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. "We did it, Babe. You've been with me through everything."

"So, what do you want to do now?" Castle inquires. "Champagne? Massive quantities of chocolate? A strawberry milkshake? All of the above?"

"Maybe later. Right now, I need to go see my father and tell him that Mom's killer is finally going to face the law. Then I want to go home."

"To your apartment, Kate?"

"That's not home, Castle. That's just a place to live. I want to go back to the loft and be with you. That's what makes it home. And it will be even better now that there won't be a protective detail outside and we can uncover the windows."

"We can have a ceremony - bringing in the light for brighter days ahead. We'll pull back the curtains, together," Castle suggests."

"Babe," Kate agrees, "that sounds perfect."


	44. Chapter 44

Too Close

Chapter 44

"Feel good to be back in the field?" Castle asks as he and Kate approach the body of a woman.

"Other than it means someone's dead, yeah," Kate confesses. "Lanie, do you have an ID on the victim?"

"Not yet, Kate, she didn't have a purse or a phone. But it shouldn't be that difficult to get one. The lady's had some work done - breast, dental, and cheekbone implants. I should be able to trace the serial numbers."

"No need," Castle injects, staring down at the attractive if augmented face. "I recognize her - Mandy Michaels. She does the 7 o'clock weather on WDIC - just in time to charm the young men who tune in for something decorative to accompany their pizza and beer. She also does some of the weather updates I get on my phone."

Kate's eyes narrow. "Something decorative for you, too, Castle?"

"Actually, I prefer Rainer Shine. He hawks the best men's hair products. But I met Mandy when I was doing an interview with Christina Coterra to promote Naked Heat. Mandy wanted to know if she could borrow something from Christina's bikini collection. Apparently, Christina is infamous for trying to seduce men with skimpy swimwear. Mandy was doing a photo shoot to raise money for the children's hospital, and she wanted something that would, um, pump up the receipts."

"Sounds like Mandy was into doing good works," Lanie comments.

"Uh-huh, something about the effects of multiple chemical exposures and respiratory problems. I got the impression that Mandy was a sufferer. I saw an inhaler in her pocket."

"She didn't have one of those on her either," Lanie reports. "The killer probably took it. It would have had her name or at least a prescription number on it."

"Castle, we should go to WDIC and interview her co-workers," Kate decides.

"Fine, just keep me away from Cristina Coterra," Castle urges. "The woman is a barracuda."

Kate grabs for Castle's arm. "Don't worry, if she shows her teeth, I'll put a hook in her."

"We ought to interview the ladies who do makeup and hair," Castle suggests. "They're like bartenders. They know the secrets of the rich and artificially enhanced anyway, so people talk to them."

* * *

"Yeah," Suzanne Rizzo replies, carefully disinfecting a set of combs. "Mandy talked to me, but she talked to Reggie, a lot more."

"Does this Reggie have a last name?" Kate inquires.

"You bet he does," Suzanne replies enthusiastically, "and a number too, both right on his Jersey. Reggie Blake."

"Champion free-throw shooter, Reggie Blake?" Castle asks.

"That's him," Suzanne confirms.

"Isn't he married to Gabrielle Ferrara?" Kate queries. "Jealousy is one of the big three motives."

"If you believe Page 6, married, but with a heavy-duty prenup," Castle responds. "If he was cheating on his supermodel spouse with Mandy," Castle considers, "Gabby would have done a lot better taking him to court than putting a bullet in a weathergirl, but let's go see Reggie anyway. Whether Gabby was jealous or not, Ryan and Esposito will be."

"Just as well, we don't send them," Kate muses. "Remember Natalie Rhodes? You know how tongue-tied Ryan gets with celebrities."

"I don't think it was just her celebrity that was affecting his lingual functions, but the boys have been trying to think of a way to get my Knicks floor seats. Which reminds me, I don't even know if you like basketball. You want to go to a game sometime?"

"Only if you'll agree to go to a baseball game with me. The hotdogs are better."

"But the nachos are tastier at the garden. We can do both. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

The head that tops Reggie Blake's seven-foot body shakes vigorously. "Mandy and I were friends, but not that kind of friends. We had a common problem, an approaching expiration date. My knees are going, and Rebecca Fog was nipping at Mandy's heels. There's always someone younger and ambitious right behind you. Mandy and I also shared an interest - helping kids who were sick because they were exposed to crap no one should breathe. In my case, my old neighborhood was used as a disposal site. Sparco chemicals dumped a bunch of toxic sh*t and then put a park over it to look like they were helping out. Then the kids who played there started getting sick. The case is still working its way through the courts.

"When Mandy was a teenager, her parents bought what they thought was the farm of their dreams. Turns out the place had been used to cook meth. Mandy got sick, her whole family did. She still had asthma, bad. And she used to go to see the kids at the hospital who had been exposed to the chemicals used to make drugs. We both did. You know, she said she had a line on a drug operation, and she was working on a story that would take it down. She was just thinking about getting those bastards, but a scoop like that could have taken her out of pointing at a map and into doing real news. That would have given her a second life in the business."

"Instead, it might have killed her," Castle observes grimly.

"Did she tell you any details about the drug operation, Reggie?" Kate questions.

"No. She was trying to get all her facts together before she put anything out there, but she might have given a heads up to the news director at KDIC. She couldn't get anything on the air without his OK."

* * *

"Mandy told me she had a story," Britt Chalmers acknowledges, 'but she didn't give me much in the way of details. Mandy had one of those hack school of broadcasting degrees. She wasn't here as a real journalist, just to attract viewers with interest in what our biggest sponsors were selling - cars and big-screen TVs. She gave them something besides weather patterns to look at. But her numbers were falling off lately, and she knew it. I thought she was just trying to hold on. She said she had a file. Rebecca Fog already took over Mandy's desk and put what was in it in a box to send to Mandy's mother. UPS pickup was an hour ago. You can ask Rebecca, but it's probably gone out already."

"Is Rebecca Fog your real name?" Castle inquires of the pretty redhead studying at the doppler radar on her laptop.

Rebecca turns to him, shoving the hair off her face. "That's the name is on my birth certificate and also on my meteorology degree. I'm a professional, not window dressing - and the viewers know it. I'm sorry that Mandy is dead, but I deserve her spot."

"I'm sure you do, Ms. Fog," Kate soothes. "Mr. Chalmers told us that you were kind enough to gather Mandy's things for Mrs. Michaels. By any chance, are they still here? We need to go see her. We could take them along."

"Fine," Rebecca agrees, pointing to an unsealed cardboard carton on a nearby chair. "I needed to get more of my prediction put together before I could get them ready to ship. There was almost nothing weather-related, but Mandy had some air sampling equipment. I don't know what she would have used it for - not for forecasts. She would have had to send whatever she got using it off to a lab for analysis."

Kate gestures for Castle to pick up the box. "We'll give Mrs. Michaels your condolences."


	45. Chapter 45

Too Close

Chapter 45

"I want to drop that sampling equipment off at CSU and look over the rest of Mandy's things before we turn anything over to her mother," Kate says as Castle puts the box in the trunk.

Castle slides into the passenger seat. "I'm willing to bet that CSU will find some heavy-duty pollutants, probably the kinds that come from meth labs."

"No bet, Babe," Kate responds, taking her place behind the wheel of her unit. "Mandy Michaels must have been onto something, or why would anyone bother to shoot her and take her ID to make it look like a mugging? She could have said something to her mother. I got the feeling that Reggie was her bestie, but if she had a boyfriend, she might also have mentioned a big story to him. We can ask Mrs. Michaels if Mandy had someone like that in her life."

* * *

"We won't find much here," CSU Chief Carl concludes, after examining the sampling equipment. Volatiles would have passed into modules that are no longer attached. And the filters to catch particulates are gone as well. We'll check for residues, but don't get your hopes up. However, several labs in the area analyze air samples. I can get you a list. You might check with them to see if your victim was using their services."

Kate nods. "Thanks, Carl, I'll do that. Did you make anything of what was in Mandy's file?"

"If you want to find a match for the pictures in there, Tech would be better equipped than we are to search for one. The listed chemicals are used for either making or refining drugs but have other applications as well. If you're chasing meth producers, they're not amateurs. Instead of converting pseudoephedrine, they're performing a full synthesis. If opioids are involved, the solvents would provide a purer product, but some of what's on the list could also be used in the production of fentanyl. All in all, a dangerous - and expensive mix. Anyone able to obtain and stock those reagents would have considerable resources. Your victim wasn't after a rogue chemistry teacher setting up production in his basement. This would have to be a big operation. Watch your backs."

"Thanks, again, Carl. We'll be careful," Kate promises.

As she and Castle leave CSU, Kate pulls her phone out of her pocket. "Hey, Ryan, there's something I need you to check out with your contacts in Narcotics. I'm emailing it to you. And tell them if our lead works out, they could be in line for a big bust."

"Looks like Mandy got herself in way over her head in something deadly," Castle observes.

Kate yanks open the door of her unit, "And deadly to a lot of people besides Mandy."

* * *

Emma Michaels strokes the fuzzy coat of a worn teddy bear from her daughter's desk. "Mandy always wanted this whenever we had to take her to the hospital. She would cling to it like a lifeline. I guess she never stopped. Her brother moved to Lincoln, Nebraska, years ago. He said it was easier to breathe there. Other than my husband and me and Reggie, she didn't have anyone else to hold on to."

"No boyfriend?" Kate asks.

"No. There was always someone chasing after her, but she thought they were shallow, only interested in - you know. And Mandy was dedicated. In her own way, she was trying to make the world a better place."

"Anywhere that she'd been spending her spare time lately?" Castle inquires.

"She didn't have much of it. When she wasn't at the station, she was working on helping out kids who are like she was. But I recall a couple of times that she said she was going up to the Bronx to work on a project. She never told me what it was."

* * *

Tech Wong displays views of buildings in an industrial neighborhood in the Bronx. These are at least 75% matches to your photographs. We might do even better with more angles."

"They'll do, Wong," Kate assures him, "thanks. Castle, Ryan said Narcotics was looking into heavy-duty drug production in the Bronx but hasn't been able to get a line on it. It looks like Mandy might have had better luck."

"Together, everything we've found makes sense," Castle figures. "Those buildings are adjacent to the kind of neighborhood Reggie was talking about. Chemical companies - or drug producers - move in because the people don't have the clout or the resources to fight them. Bracken took advantage of that."

"Maybe the people behind him did, too." Kate speculates. "Castle, we know Bracken was mixed up with the Mosses. They supported his campaigns, and he shielded them. Now it looks as if they're taking care of themselves."

"Do you think they'll try to take out Bracken?" Castle wonders. "If the senator has a smart lawyer, he might try to trade the Mosses for Bracken's ass, maybe even WITSEC."

Kate taps her fingernails against a tabletop. "I can't see Gardner taking an offer like that, his people have worked too long and too hard. But it's possible that someone from the Moss operation might try to get to Bracken."

"To which I'd say good riddance," Castle declares. "It would save the time and trouble of a trial - and leave Maddox and Gnome on the hook."

Kate sighs. "You have a point, Castle. But if I stand by and let things work that way, I'd be as lawless as Bracken. I'll call Gardner and make sure Bracken is under watch. And I want to make sure there's no way Maddox and Gnome can walk either. They both came after me, and victims have a say in plea deals. I'm going to be making myself heard loud and clear."

Castle presses his lips to the top of her head. "Of that, I have no doubt. So after you talk to Gardner, what do we do about nailing the Moss organization for killing Mandy?"

"We should have ballistics on the bullet that killed her. We can start there. And we need to check out labs to find who ran her air sampling. If she did find drug production facilities that should help prove it. And we have to do surveillance on those buildings."

"Sounds like we're going to need the boys and at least another team. You think Gates will go for it? She's been making budget noises again."

"She'll give us what we need," Kate asserts. "Mandy was a media figure. That's going to mean a constant stream of questions from the press about when her killer will be brought to justice. It will also mean pressure from the commissioner and your pal Weldon. Gates will want to put the case to bed ASAP. Let's start with the labs. If Mandy found something, we can hang the rest of the case on that. Care to start making some calls?"

"How am I supposed to identify myself, Kate? I can't ask as a cop. Gates would have my head, or possibly some other part of my anatomy, on a platter."

"Ask as what Montgomery agreed you would be and what you still are, a civilian consultant - and my partner. I've never had a better one, Castle."

"I will hold that close to my heart as I make my inquiries. Thank God, I helped Alexis review for her AP chemistry exam. At least I can pronounce what's on Mandy's list."


	46. Chapter 46

Too Close

Chapter 46

Castle puts his phone down with a grin. "Kate, I found the lab that ran the testing for Mandy Michaels. They wouldn't send the results to me, but they agreed to email them to you. The analysis should be arriving in the next few minutes."

"Castle, did they tell you anything about what they found?"

"No, but from the vibe of the person I talked to, I got the feeling that they felt their results could be a police matter."

"The email just arrived, Babe. I'm downloading the attachment. Damn, this is slow."

"Somehow, downloads you want always are, and unwanted ads arrive at lightspeed."

Kate shakes her head as she taps her pencil. "I had to launch Adobe, but it's coming up. Oh, wow!"

The metal feet of Castle's chair scrape against the floor as he jumps up to look over her shoulder. "That's a lot of the stuff on Mandy's list. And look at what's under particulates, methamphetamine, heroin, and cocaine. It's the motherlode!"

"Yeah, now we have to figure out the location of the air Mandy was sampling. It had to be one of those buildings."

"Or more than one," Castle points out, "The lab report lists the contents of multiple modules and filters. Mandy could have been going up there night after night. That may have been how she was spotted."

Kate sticks the top of her pencil in her mouth, chewing on the eraser. "I don't think so. If a drug lab caught Mandy spying, someone probably would have killed her right there. I don't believe they would have bothered trying to fake a mugging either, probably just dumped the body, and Lanie said it hadn't been moved. More likely, someone found out what Mandy was doing, and narc'd on her to whoever is running the drug operation."

"Interesting choice of words," Castle notes, "but by whoever, you mean the Mosses."

"We still don't have any proof of that, Castle, just that an operation exists."

Rick presses a quick kiss to her temple. "So on to the Bronx?"

"Not yet. I want to go back to KDIC. Mandy's file was in her desk, and Chalmers knew Mandy had a story. Others might have too. Someone there could have blown the whistle."

Castle hands Kate her jacket. "My vote would be for the fulsome Ms. Fog. She had the opportunity to find out what Mandy was doing and enough of a science background to understand it. And she grabbed Mandy's desk before the seat was cold."

"We'll talk to her again, Castle. We'll talk to everyone."

* * *

Rebecca Fog snorts as she rolls her eyes. "Mandy Michaels having a real story? Please! The best she could do would be makeup and hair tips, and Rainer Shine is better with hair. She might have been sampling the air for pollen or something. She was always making a big deal about her asthma. I had to get blown around on storm location standups because she said that what came in on the wind gave her attacks. Losing camera time like that might have had her out of here faster than having her pores magnified on high-definition. Now you'll have to excuse me. I go live for News at Noon, and I have to report on the front coming in."

"Do you believe her?" Castle asks as Rebecca stalks away.

"I think she's an ambitious bitch," Kate confesses, "but I don't think she killed Mandy. Reggie backed up what Rebecca said. Mandy did have an expiration date. And Rebecca didn't show any signs of drug use. She's probably too much of a control freak to touch the stuff. It's unlikely she would even know a dealer. Chalmers dismissed the idea that Mandy could have had a story worth airing, but he could have been lying. He's next on the list."

Britt Chalmers' eyebrows rise toward his receding hairline. "Mandy actually had a story? Damn! Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day. I don't know who else around here she might have told, but Chip Chambers, our sportscaster, was always trying to get her to go for a drink with him. As far as I know, he was unsuccessful, but he did like to hang around her desk. I suppose he might have gotten wind of something."

* * *

Chip sniffs as his eyes sweep up and down Kate's body. "Do you have a cold, Mr. Chambers?" Kate asks.

Castle glares as Chip's gaze settles on Kate's breasts. The sportscaster sniffs again. "Fall allergies. They practically kill me when I go to the ballpark, but the job is the job. I guess you want to know about Mandy. She had allergies too. We had that in common. I always thought we'd have a lot of other things in common, but she never gave me the chance to find out. She kept pretty much to herself. The only one she was interested in talking to much is Miles Haxton – the anchor. I guess she saw him as a mentor or something."

"They didn't have a thing?" Castle queries.

"Well, if they did, they would have kept it under wraps. Except for Britt Chalmers, Miles is top dog around here. If he went after Mandy, it would have violated the company policy against hitting on subordinates. Mandy and I were on the same level, but Miles could have been fired for it." Chip winks at Kate. "No rules about any of us dating beautiful police detectives."

Kate flashes a tight-lipped smile. "Sorry, Chip. The N.Y.P.D. has a policy against dating subjects involved in an investigation."

"That's all right," Chip calls as Kate and Castle walk away. "I'll call you after you figure out who killed Mandy."

"You know," Castle whispers, "you could have just told him you're in a relationship."

"Guy like that, he'd just try harder. Besides, it's none of his business. Our family and friends – and Gates - know, but that doesn't mean I have to announce it to the whole world."

"Kate, I know you like to play things close to the vest, and that's fine for now. But I'm famous – ish. And it's no secret that I base Nikki Heat on you. Sooner or later, the fact that we're together is going to be out there. Ooh, and speaking of out there, here comes Christina Coterra."

The barracuda beams. "Rick, I sent your agent an open invitation for you to come to plug your next book, but she said you weren't doing interviews right now. Or are you just not doing them with me? I can offer inducements. How do you feel about chocolate-covered strawberries before your appearance and oysters afterward?"

"Someone at the precinct accidentally fed Castle shellfish and he turned blue. We had to call 911," Kate interrupts.

"We could skip the oysters," Christina offers, her hands tracing the curves of her body."I doubt you'd need that kind of help anyway."

Reddening, Castle coughs. "Actually, Christina, my agent was right. I'm in the research stage of my next book right now. Most of the interviews I do are with cops and murder suspects. I'm off the media circuit. But I will keep the chocolate-covered strawberries in mind."

"You will keep the chocolate-covered strawberries in mind?" Kate hisses as she and Castle walk toward Miles Haxton's workstation.

"Of course, as something to buy to put in your milkshakes. Chocolate and strawberries make a great combination. And I'm sure we could find something interesting to do with any leftovers."

Kate bumps him with her hip. "I'm sure we could."


	47. Chapter 47

Too Close

Chapter 47

"Mandy had me look over her preliminary outline for her story," Miles Haxton admits, "but I told her it wasn't even close to ready, especially not to attract network attention. Mandy looked good on screen, but she knew zip about journalism. Nothing she had was independently verifiable. She had no idea how to develop sources or document evidence. If she'd presented what she had to Chalmers, he would have turned her down flat."

"So, what did you advise her to do?" Castle queries.

"Either put in the work to get it done right, abandon it, or turn it over to me to develop."

"And how did she respond to that?" Kate presses.

"Not well. She said there were lives at stake, and she wanted to get it out there as soon as possible. She might have been looking for an outlet with lower standards than we apply for broadcast television. I don't know. She just stalked off and didn't say another word to me after that except for on-air throws."

Castle motions Kate to an unoccupied corner of the studio. "Do you believe him? Miles Haxton has been sitting in that chair as a local newscaster ever since Alexis was born. If Mandy had a story that could make the leap to nationwide coverage, I'll bet he would have loved to get his hands on it."

"You may be right, Castle, but killing Mandy just threw more attention on her. And wouldn't he have swiped the file from her desk? There has to be something we're missing, but I don't think we'll get anything more useful here. We should set up for surveillance of the buildings in the Bronx. Finding out one way or another if Mandy really found a drug operation should help us take the next step."

"Any particular choice of building?" Castle wonders.

"Why? Did you have one in mind?"

"I'm kind of partial to the lair with art deco architecture. At least it would give us something more interesting to look at than cinderblocks."

Kate shrugs. "Why not? It's as good a choice as any. There's a shift that starts at midnight, watching the place. Are you up for that?"

"I'd be more up for it if we catch a nap between now and then."

Kate lets her finger wander down the front of his shirt. "I believe we can figure out a way to fit one in."

"And maybe we can find some chocolate-covered strawberries."

* * *

Castle caresses his night vision goggles. "These are so cool! I'm going to order a pair to keep in the loft."

Kate rolls her eyes. "What would you use them for, Castle? The street outside is well lit, and your building has a backup generator in case the power goes out."

"True enough," Castle acknowledges, "but that would all change if the Russians or Chinese use a satellite to induce a massive EMP. That would knock out the grid. There wouldn't be any streetlights, and the generator runs off the natural gas supply. That might be out too. The street gangs could mass and attack, and we'd never see them coming."

"How would they do that, Castle? These days the gangs communicate by cellphone, and those wouldn't work. You'd be better off stocking up on candles. At least those don't need power or electronics to run."

"And they are more romantic than a flashlight," Castle concedes. "Still, the goggles are really cool, and – whoa! That's Reggie!"

"Castle, are you sure?"

"How many seven-foot guys are involved with this case, Kate? We know he was Mandy's confidant. She must have told him what she was doing, and the quisling turned on her."

"Hold on, Babe. We don't know that. He's going in. We can follow him when he comes out and see what he's up to."

Reggie emerges from the building, carrying a canvas bag, and folds himself into the driver's seat of a silver SUV. Kate waits until his vehicle is a block away before turning the ignition in her unit, and stays as far behind as she can while Reggie heads north.

"He's taking Saw Mill River Parkway," Castle notes. "The Knicks' practice compound is in Tarrytown. That must be where he's going."

Kate slows down slightly. "There won't be much traffic up there this time of night. I'm going to have to keep way back and hope you're right about his destination."

* * *

Reggie pulls into the lot at the vast complex that houses the Knicks' and Rangers' training facilities. As he expected, the place is deserted. That gives him time to stow the drugs where they won't be seen, but he can get to them when he needs to.

He'd never meant to be a drug dealer. His mother had pounded it into his head that the leeches that sold crack, heroin, and weed were the enemy. All his time growing up, through his college years, and most of his professional career, he'd stayed away, even from what was freely offered at parties.

But then his knees began to betray him. At first, he stuck with physical therapy and what his trainer gave him - but the aching grew deeper, and whatever measures he took weren't enough to keep him moving the way he should. Finally, he gave in - just to get through a big game. But then there were more big games, and he needed a steady supply. Finally, he struck a deal with the devil. He would have whatever he needed, but he would serve as a distributor to players, trainers, or whoever wanted what he was selling.

Somehow Mandy caught on that he had become involved with everything she despised and confronted him. Despite her promise that she wouldn't out her best friend, she was determined to expose the operation. He couldn't let that happen. He'd been hoping that when he sounded a warning, it would just mean a temporary shutdown of the locations Mandy had stumbled onto, but his suppliers had decided on a permanent solution. And there was nothing Reggie could do to change it.

Kate pulls into a parking spot shielded by shrubbery. She and Castle get out of the car, taking up a position in the shadows where they can see if Reggie exits the facility.

After 20 minutes, the tall figure comes out, minus his bag, and gets back into his vehicle. Are we going to follow him?" Castle whispers.

"If we can. Traffic will pick up as we get closer to the city. His condo is near the Westside Highway. That's only a 45-minute drive. Chances are he'll make an appearance there and then come back here for morning practice, with his drugs already in place. We'll need to coordinate with the locals to get a warrant to get in there and search for drugs. We can't pick him up unless we find some."

"We will," Castle asserts grimly. "You think he'll be willing to say anything? He's got enough money to lawyer up and let his attorney protect him. He's also got a big enough fan base that if he claims he's being railroaded, much of the public will believe it."

Kate nods. "We'll have to bring Gardner into it to offer Reggie some kind of sealed deal if he flips on his suppliers. Right now, the most we'll have is Reggie making a pickup at one building. We need as much as he knows about the whole operation – and who put out a hit on Mandy."


	48. Chapter 48

Too Close

Chapter 48

Staring at the ground, Reggie allows himself to be led to a police unit.

Castle turns to Kate. "What now?"

"The Tarrytown cops are cooperating. We can sit down with Reggie here, once they get him processed. We'll have to sort out the jurisdictional paperwork, but he'll eventually end up back in the city."

"He looks pretty beaten, and not just about getting caught. I can't imagine how it would feel to be responsible for the death of a friend."

"That's something we have yet to prove, but at least we have a start on it."

Reggie barely fits in a chair in the Tarrytown Station as he sits opposite Kate and Rick. "Reggie," Kate begins softly. "I know you didn't want things to come down like this, and you didn't want anything to happen to Mandy. But you can help to finish her work, to make things right."

"She's dead, nothing is ever going to make that right," Reggie insists.

"That's true, Reggie," Castle agrees. "nothing is going to bring Mandy back, but you can make her death mean something."

"You can get the poison off the streets and the people responsible for her death behind bars. Do you really want it to end with you in jail and her killer free to murder again?" Kate adds.

Reggie's cuffs rattle as he lurches forward. "I don't know who killed Mandy!"

"But you know who's responsible," Kate returns. "You think about it. Think about it hard. What would Mandy want you to do?"

* * *

"Do you think Reggie will flip?" Castle asks as Kate drives her unit back to Manhattan.

"I don't know what kind of a deal his lawyer will try to get, but I think he will. I've questioned a lot of suspects, Castle. Sometimes they're arrogant or defiant. Sometimes they're sociopaths who are proud of what they've done. But I've rarely seen the kind of remorse that was all over Reggie's face. He'll tell what he knows. I just hope it's enough to take down the Mosses or whoever is running the drug operation."

"Looks like we're done for now," Castle notes. "It's almost dinner time, and we missed lunch. We could stop somewhere to eat or raid the fridge at the loft. What do you want to do?"

"That depends. What's in the fridge?"

"We were scheduled for a grocery delivery today, that would have been staples plus whatever meat and produce arrived most recently at the market. I have a standing order for cold cuts too, so pretty much anything that makes your luscious mouth water. This is Alicia's day to clean. She would have been there to put everything away. We still have a few chocolate-covered strawberries too."

"In that case, we're definitely going to the loft."

* * *

Castle bounces out of bed, surprising Kate with his exuberance at the early hour. "What's going on, Babe?"

"Mother and Alexis are flying back from Europe today, so Alexis can pack to go to college. I want to make sure everything's ready before we go to the precinct."

"Despite your recent cooking spree, the kitchen is stocked, and Alicia straightened up. What do you need to get ready?"

"I just want to make sure the place looks - welcoming."

"Welcoming, so she can get ready to leave again?"

"She's not leaving for a couple of days, and I want the father-daughter time we have left, to be special."

"You're acting like she's going back to Europe. Columbia's only a few miles uptown."

"I know. The geographic distance isn't far, but the emotional distance will be vast. She's entering a new phase of her life. She'll have a new routine, new challenges, and new friends to lean on. I don't know how much she'll even want to come home anymore."

"Trust me, Castle. If she's got laundry, she'll want to come home. You never know what's been in the machines in a dorm."

"I suppose that's some comfort. I can probably lure her with my triple chocolate brownies, too."

"You could lure the whole precinct with those. You go ahead and do welcoming. I'm going to grab a quick shower."

* * *

"Wow!" Castle exclaims, looking down at the body of a woman on a hotel room floor. "A message written in her own blood, how very cinematic."

"You have an ID, Lanie?" Kate asks.

"Wendy Dupree."

"According to the information she gave the registration desk," Ryan adds, "she's from Philadelphia. She arrived and checked in alone."

"L-I-E," Castle reads. "Unless she's hung around New York before, I doubt she meant the Long Island Expressway. So, she was killed over a lie, how intriguing."

"But not enlightening," Kate points out. "We need to talk to someone who knew her and find out what the lie might have been."

Ryan holds up an envelope stuffed with $4000 in cash he pulled from Wendy's purse. "This might have something to do with it." He hands Beckett a cellphone. "This was in there too."

"Check her financial records," Kate orders, "and – there's a threatening message on her cell. Get her phone records too. Let's find the guy that sent this."

* * *

Joe Pratt presses his palms against the table in the interrogation room. "Yeah, I was pissed off at Wendy - $4000 worth. I sent her to make a night deposit at the bank, and she took off with a day's proceeds. Of course, I threatened her. I wanted my money back. I had to sell a lot of Philly cheesesteaks to take that in. And it's not all profit, either. Good meat is expensive."

Castle leans across the table. "You make Philly cheesesteaks?"

Pratt's chest puffs out. "Best in Philly. Wendy works – worked – for me as a waitress. When I realized what she did, I came to New York to find her."

"And kill her?" Kate accuses. "That's what your text said you'd do."

"I didn't mean that," Pratt insists. "I just wanted my money back, you know? And I didn't find her. I don't suppose you found the cash?"

"It's evidence, Mr. Pratt," Kate explains, "but you can put in a claim to get it back after the case is resolved."

Pratt shakes his head. "Which probably means I can kiss it goodbye."

"He's lying." Castle claims after he and Kate leave the interrogation room.

"Why, Castle?" Kate wonders. "If he killed Wendy, he would have taken the money."

"Not about killing Wendy; about making the best Philly cheesesteaks. I had an incredible one the last time I was in Philadelphia, and it didn't come from him."

"I'll trust your judgment about that, Castle. You know your food."

"Damn right. But what now? He was our prime suspect."

"I'll have Pratt's hands tested for gunshot residue, just to rule him out, and there were other calls on Wendy's cellphone that we can track. But I want to call Gardner's office first. They were supposed to be finishing up the deal to get Reggie's testimony. I want to be there when he makes his statement."

"Yeah," Castle agrees, "I'd like to be there too, but not if it means missing Alexis' and Mother's homecoming."

"Don't worry, Castle. If you can't be there, I'll give you a blow by blow," Kate promises.

Rick's eyebrows gyrate above his wide grin. "Now that, Detective Beckett sounds even more intriguing than any bloody dying missive."


	49. Chapter 49

Too Close

Chapter 49

Kate looks up as Castle joins her in Observation. "I thought you were hanging with Alexis today."

"I thought so too, but she and her friends from Marlowe Prep organized a last-minute get-together before they scatter on the winds of higher learning. They're meeting at Stephano's to stuff themselves with pizza and ponder days past and future. Then they're going to a double feature at the Angelika."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, but I was hoping that Alexis and I could compete in a last game of laser tag before she takes up residence uptown. I don't think we'll have time now."

Kate gestures toward the mirror. "Someone's getting tagged in there – big time. Toni Gonzalez, she's Gardner's star ADA, isn't giving much to Reggie's lawyer. She wants Reggie to give her every communication he's ever had with the drug organization, everything he observed, and every pill he sold. His lawyer doesn't like it, but Reggie is spilling his guts."

"Has Reggie said anything about the Mosses?"

"Not directly, but he talked about a Bill who came in to ride herd on operations. He claims he didn't know a last name."

"Bill Moss was the lawyer who shut Jordan Morris up about who he called to get a hit on Laura Cambridge when the political machine tried to frame Weldon."

Kate nods vigorously. "Exactly. Toni got Reggie to give her a description. It matched what I remember. We'll get Reggie with a sketch artist after Toni finishes her interrogation."

"Did Toni ask who Reggie told about Mandy?"

"She didn't have to ask. He offered."

"Guilty conscience," Castle surmises.

"Uh-huh. He said he told Bill. Reggie thought a boss-man would be the only one with enough juice to engineer a temporary shutdown."

"Instead, Bill engineered a permanent one - of Mandy's life."

* * *

Castle looks over the shoulder of the sketch artist and runs to get Kate at the murder board. "We've got them! Reggie's Bill is Bill Moss. The sketch looks just like him! Are we going to pick him up?"

"Based on the word of a drug dealer, Castle? He's a lawyer, and the family probably has an army of them. They'd have him out before Alexis finishes her pizza, and the organization would pick up stakes and have a shredding party before Gardner could go after it. My guess is that Gardner will impanel a grand jury and have them quietly subpoena the financial records they need to bring solid indictments. Then he can start having cops round up suspects."

"And how long will that take?" Castle wonders.

"As long as it does. Sometimes investigations like that require years. Hopefully, this one won't. The grand jury could call Bracken as a witness."

"Gardner has him for conspiracy in murder and attempted murder. He wouldn't let him off in exchange for testifying against the Mosses, would he?"

"I can't see Gardner agreeing to that, not after what it took to build a case. But he might offer Bracken less restrictive conditions. Otherwise, Bracken could end up spending his life in maximum security."

"Which he would deserve," Castle snorts. "Devil's Island would be an appropriate venue.

"With you there, Babe. But anyway, given Bracken's ego, he might volunteer to testify, to bring the Mosses down with him. If he asks for too much, I believe Gardner will tell him where to stick it. Where the Mosses are concerned, the investigation will mainly be a matter of following the money, and as big as their operation seems to be, there should be a pretty good trail."

Castle points at the murder board. "How's the trail to Wendy Dupree's killer?"

"We don't have one. Most of the calls on her phone were to a Johann Fleming, but he's dead. He was accidentally pushed onto the subway tracks."

"Johann Fleming?" Castle repeats.

"Yeah, Castle, why? Does the name mean something to you?"

"Johanna and Johann Fleming were the aliases of the Wonder Twins! I bet Wendy and Johann were brother and sister."

"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it Castle?"

"Maybe not," Ryan interrupts. "According to Wendy's financials, she charged a cab ride. The address is for a place that rents out storage units. A Johann Fleming leased one of them. It's going up for auction today because dead men pay no rents."

"Let me guess," Castle says, "unit 317."

Ryan consults his notes. "That's right, Castle! Are you psychic or something? I should take you along next time I buy a lottery ticket."

"Not psychic, just an attentive father. When Alexis was sick, she used to like to play calculator games, the kind where you turn it upside down and spell out words with numbers. Lie is 317. That's why Wendy took the money. She needed it to buy Johann's locker. Maybe there's something in it that will prove he was murdered – and why she was. We need to go take a look. What time is the auction?"

Ryan consults his watch. "In about half an hour."

Kate begins striding toward the elevator. "Then we better get over there."

* * *

When Kate and Castle thread their way through the assembly of potential buyers, a large woman spreads her arms to block access to 317. No one gets a look except from the doorway until they buy the contents."

"You can't sell what's in there," Kate insists, pointing to her badge. "It's evidence in a murder case."

"You got a warrant?" the woman challenges.

Kate tries to push by. "I have one in process, but we didn't have time to pick it up. A copy should be coming through on my phone in a few minutes."

"Well, that will be a few minutes too late. That unit goes on sale now. If you want something in it, you can negotiate with the buyer."

Castle lays a hand on Kate's shoulder. "It's all right. I have my checkbook and my titanium card. Whatever it goes for, I can buy it."

"Cash only," the woman proclaims. "We get enough deadbeats."

Castle pulls out his money clip. "I think I can handle it. I can settle up with the department later."

"Good luck with Gates on that," Kate says. "It looks like a bunch of junk, Castle."

"Haven't you ever watched 'Cash in the Attic,' Kate? One can find treasures in the strangest places."

"Just don't bring that used mattress into the loft. It could have bedbugs."

"You've always objected when I've 'borrowed' evidence. I'll get all this stuff hauled to the bullpen. We'll have a gaggle of detectives to help us go through it."

"Gates will really love that."

"Who knows? We may find a treasure for her."

* * *

"That," Castle remarks, regarding a cupie-like figurine, "has got to be the ugliest doll I have ever seen."

Gates barrels out of her office. "Mr. Castle, get that junk out of here, or I swear I'm going to have you arrested for littering." She stops short, staring at the china abomination. "Is that, it is! A Gemini! I've been collecting them since I was a little girl, and that's the only one I don't have."

Bowing slightly, Castle presents it to her. "Gemini. Ah, the twins. I knew that would pop up somewhere. Then, by all means, complete your collection." As he hands it over, it rattles. "Do those things have prizes inside, like Crackerjacks boxes?"

"They didn't make them that way," Gates replies, "but see the rubber plug on the bottom? Sometimes people hide things in them. I never found anything in the Gemini I bought, but I heard that someone found one with a diamond ring once." She inserts her fingernails beneath the rubber and carefully dumps the contents in her palm.

"An artificial eye and a USB drive," Castle observes. "I wasn't expecting that."


	50. Chapter 50

Too Close

Chapter 50

"Get an evidence bag to get the -ugh- eye to CSU. And give the drive to Tech," Gates orders."

"Good thought, Captain," Castle agrees. "Don't want to get Kate's computer all virusy or wormy."

Gates' eyes narrow. "Yes, Mr. Castle. I'm well aware of the dangers of cyber infections. Go! There's still a killer out there."

Castle shakes his head as he and Kate walk toward Tech. "She hates me again. For one shining moment, with that creepy doll, I had her."

"She doesn't hate you, Castle, she just doesn't like civilian incursion into cop territory. She's defending her domain. And the fact that Weldon forced the issue about you being here didn't help."

"So, I imagine it would be a bad time to try to get reimbursed for the contents of Johann Fleming's storage unit."

"I think you're going to have to eat that one, Babe."

"That may be literal. There's a cool automatic hot dog maker in with that junk. I could donate it to the break room. Hey, Gates likes hot dogs. I saw her buying one from the vendor who sets up down the block. Maybe I can sauerkraut my way back into her good graces."

"No mustard and relish?"

"No, true to her personality, she was definitely heaping on the sour stuff."

* * *

Wong gestures from the doorway of Tech. "Detective Beckett, I pulled everything off the drive you and Mr. Castle gave me. I'm sending it to your station."

Kate waves her acknowledgment. "Thanks, Wong."

Castle scoots up his chair to see what's on her screen as she opens a file. "Wow! Pictures, articles. All about the deaths of a couple named Dupree. It says that they died in an automobile accident. They left two kids, twins, Wendy and her brother Wendell – probably otherwise known as Johann Fleming. The driver who caused the accident left his car, took off and was never caught. It looks like Johann – or Wendell- has been trying to track him down since. He must have told Wendy where he was keeping the evidence, and she grabbed Pratt's $4000 in a last-ditch effort to get it back."

Kate brings up a jpeg. "That's a photo of Wendy and Wendell. We can check with Lanie and see if it matches the autopsy photos for Johann Fleming."

"Wendell and Johann were the same person," Lanie declares. "And I checked with the M.E. who recorded Wendell's death as accidental. She suspected that he might have been deliberately pushed, but it was during rush hour. The platform was wall to wall with people trying to get on a train, and the cameras were out. She had no evidence to rule it a homicide."

"It all makes sense," Castle says. "Imagine this. After years of searching, Wendell finds the person he thinks killed his parents, but he needs proof. He takes a job near the killer, waiting for his chance to get a match to the DNA left behind at the crash."

"The artificial eye," Kate continues.

"Right! In the Fugitive, Richard Kimble was looking for a one-armed man. Wendell Dupree was looking for a one-eyed man. We trace his steps; we find a quadruple killer."

"Wendy and Wendell Dupree and their parents," Kate finishes.

"There's just one thing wrong with the story," Castle muses.

"What?" Kate asks.

"The wonder twins were aliens. Wouldn't it have been cool if Wendy and Wendell had been too?"

Kate shrugs. "Can't have everything, Babe."

* * *

The moment a white-gloved butler opens the door to Angelica Hartley's deluxe condominium, Kate knows she and Castle are in the right place. Castle looks down at Kate, a plea on his face. "I've been waiting four years to say this."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Go ahead, Castle."

Rick points dramatically at the face staring at them with an artificial eye. "The butler did it!"

* * *

Castle helps Alexis unpack the last of the boxes in her dorm room, stuffing books into an overloaded shelf. "I can't believe your bookcases at home are still full."

"Oh come on, Dad, one of the first things I remember is you reading to me, and taking me to the library – even before you took me to Comicadia. I have to love books. You programmed me."

"While my coding skills may be lacking, I'm glad I got that right. You're going to do great here, Pumpkin."

"I just wish I knew what I wanted to study. "You knew that you wanted to be a writer when you were just a little kid. I haven't found my passion yet."

"You will, but until then, you have the chance to explore all the possibilities."

"That's kind of scary, Dad, you know?"

"Alexis, I've rarely known you to be scared of anything for long. Hasn't your mantra always been to do what makes you afraid, and conquer it?"

"Except for leaving New York to go to college. The thing is, Dad, whatever happened, I always knew that you'd be there for me. Mom could be in California or Paris, and Gram would be on the road – until her ex-husband stole all her money, and she moved in with us. But even then, you have always been the one who made me feel safe – to make sure there were no monsters under the bed. And I know that it's only a 20-minute cab ride home, but I'm here, and you're there."

"You know that all you have to do is call, and I'll be here, right – even if I have to con the N.Y.P.D. into a police escort with lights and sirens?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do. But could you do it one last time?"

Castle presses his lips to her forehead. "Sure." Dropping to one knee, he checks under the dormitory issue bed. "No monsters."

* * *

"What's wrong, Babe?" Kate asks when Castle sinks heavily onto the couch at the loft.

"Alexis was depending on me to assure her that there aren't any monsters. But there are, Kate, and not just the boys in her coed dorm. They don't hide under the bed or in the closet, Bracken, Maddox, Lockwood, they're all monsters, and no matter how many we catch, there always seem to be more. And now it's the Mosses, and God knows who else. I can't keep her safe from all of them."

Kate takes a seat beside Rick, leaning into his shoulder. "You know, Babe, for years, my dad blamed himself for my mother's death. Sometimes I blamed myself, too. But there's nothing either one of us could have done to prevent it. My mother was following the path she had to follow. She wouldn't have been happy doing anything else, and she wouldn't have been the Johanna Beckett that Dad and I loved. The most I can do is make sure Bracken pays for what he did. Alexis will find her own way in the world. You'll be here for support and comfort and to smooth the path for her. But in the end, she'll fight her dragons. And if I know Alexis, she'll be one hell of a slayer."

"Quite a compliment coming from the most impressive slayer since Buffy."

"I'll gather my wooden stakes, and you can grab your magic sword, and we can take down the monsters together," Kate proposes. "Deal?"

Rick frames her face in his palms before their lips meet. "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	51. Chapter 51

Too Close

Chapter 51

"Kate, have you been on my laptop?" Castle inquires.

"No, Babe, why?"

"Because I left the page I was working on up. I was right in the middle of a sentence, and I couldn't figure out where I wanted it to go, so I decided to stop writing while it bounced around in my head for a while. Now the computer's on the home screen as if it rebooted."

"Doesn't it do that automatically when there's an update?" Kate asks. "Mine will."

"I've lost too much stuff when my computer restarted without my permission. I configured my settings - actually, I asked Alexis to configure my settings – so that it wouldn't."

"Castle, are you saying someone snuck in here and messed with your computer? You upgraded the security system when Bracken had Maddox after me."

"Top-level thieves bypass security systems, at least they do on TV. And Powell could do it. I bet Serena could too."

"And why would either of them want to break in here and reboot your computer?"

"I'm not saying either of them did. But it doesn't feel right, Kate. Maybe we should fingerprint it or something."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. No. It's probably just a glitch, but I'm going to look at my history just to make sure. Alexis put a monitoring program on it so she could - um, encourage me - to stop procrastinating when Gina was on the warpath. It's still running. Hmm."

"What?"

"According to this, a bunch of files were written and then deleted. I don't delete what I write, Kate, even if I don't like it. I'll put it on a drive and save it in case there's something I want to revisit. If nothing else, it reminds me of things I want to avoid."

"Can you recover them?"

"No. I'm not that good. But Alexis is. She's coming home to do her laundry anyway."

"I told you she would."

"I'm glad you were right. Anyway, when she comes, I'll have her take a look."

* * *

Alexis wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue. "Oh, gross! A body hung from the ceiling with a symbol carved into her forehead. Dad, I thought you gave up on writing scenes like this after 'Hell Hath No Fury.'"

"I did, except for one Voodoo scene and that one was more about sex than a ritual killing." Castle scans the text. "I didn't write that! Kate, look at the creation timestamp. We were – together – when this file was saved before it was deleted. It was planted! God, Kate! Someone was here, only a few feet away from our bed. We not only have to have my laptop fingerprinted. We should have the whole loft fingerprinted. I don't know why, but someone was here."

Kate's phone dings and she checks the text. "I'll see what I can do about that later, Babe. We have a murder."

* * *

Castle can feel the muscles in his jaw pop as he stares up at the body hanging from the ceiling. "It's just like the scene in the file that was put on my computer and then deleted."

Kate lays her hand on his arm as she gazes upward with him. "I'm going to get CSU into the loft now. What was on your computer is directly related to this murder. I think someone was trying to frame you."

"Who would do that?"

Kate yanks her phone out of her pocket. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

* * *

Castle's chest tightens as Kate hands him the report on the fingerprints in the loft and the murder scene. "Jerry Tyson. That psychopathic sonofabitch was in the loft with us and on my computer. Who knows how often he got in? Damn it, Kate! He could have been watching us when we... And he planted my prints at the apartment where he killed Tessa. That poor woman. I think I'm going to be sick."

"Look, Babe, at least if he was trying to make it look like you committed that murder, he didn't succeed. And now we know he's in New York."

"Along with 8 million other people. How are we going to…? Wow, Kate. He doesn't know that he didn't succeed. Maybe we can draw him out."

"Castle, what are you talking about?"

"Tyson set me up to take the fall for Tessa's murder. He holds me responsible for figuring out that he was the one who killed those women. He wants to see me suffer, or he would have used Ryan's gun to kill me in that hotel room. So let's give him a chance. Arrest me for Tessa's murder."

"Castle, are you serious? Tyson is smart. We'd have to make it look real, and you know what Holding is like. You can't even take a pee in private. Are you sure you want to go through that just to lure him into showing up to gloat? How can you be sure that he will?"

"You weren't in that hotel room with us, Kate. You didn't see the smirk on his face as he made me lie to my mother, as he threatened me with a gun when he had no intention of shooting me. He loves the game. He gets turned on by it. If he could get into the loft, he can get into the precinct. And when he does, we'll finally have him."

"And what if when he shows up, he decides to kill you?"

"If he wanted to do that, I'd be dead. Hell, Kate. He was in the loft. We'd both be dead."

* * *

Jerry Tyson fingers himself as he watches his hacked feed from the 12th Precinct. It looks like Castle is trying to get comfortable on a metal bench in his cell. He'll never be comfortable anywhere again. Jerry will make sure of that.

But now it's time for the real fun. Jerry studies his uniform. He saved it from when his hapless dupe was working at the costume house. It's perfect, right down to the nametag - J. Rook. Seeing his precious alter-ego's name on Tyson's chest will make Castle suffer even more. In his mind, Jerry goes over what he plans to say, every word calculated to cause the most pain.

Finding the backdoor into the N.Y.P.D.'s surveillance system wasn't easy, but if it was, anyone could do it. Now that he has it, disabling the camera on Castle's cell will be child's play. They can have their little talk. Maybe Jerry can fit in more than one before Castle is arraigned on murder charges.

He feels the explosion beneath his hand before switching off his tablet. This was good. The thrill he'll get after visiting Castle will be even better.

* * *

Kate was right about the cell not being designed for comfort. Castle was tempted to take the extra blanket she offered him for padding, but he can almost feel Tyson's eyes on him. A privilege the other prisoners don't have wouldn't look right. He can tough it out. He and Alexis have camped in some pretty rough places. He can handle a cell. Anyway, he has a feeling that Tyson won't be able to stay away long. He can wait.

The light goes out on the camera pointed at Castle's cell, and Jerry Tyson checks the details of his uniform one last time before entering the precinct. He can feel the excitement coursing through his body as he makes his way to the holding cells. His prey is only a minute away.


	52. Chapter 52

Too Close

Chapter 52

Wong points at his screen. I'm monitoring the surveillance in Holding. The camera closest to Mr. Castle's cell was just disabled."

"Can we still see if anyone approaches?" Kate asks.

"See or at least hear, with the bug in Mr. Castle's cell," Wong responds. "The camera in the hall leading to Holding is still active. This is the feed."

"The image of a uniformed cop comes on screen, and Kate gasps. "That's Tyson! He'll be at Castle's cell any second!" She runs out the door, yelling at Ryan and Esposito. "He's here dressed as a cop, and he's got a f****ing gun! Get into position to take him down."

Castle springs to his feet as footsteps approach. Jerry Tyson's swagger is unmistakable. Rick thrusts his fingers through the mesh, gazing up at the nonfunctioning camera. "Help! I need some help in here!"

Tyson smirks. "They're not coming." He points up at the camera. "I blinded them. It's just you and me, Castle."

"You did this to me. You planted my fingerprints in Tessa's apartment. You put that twisted plot on my computer."

Tyson smiles in triumph. "Childs play, Castle. All that time in the pen, I learned from the best about security systems, defeating locks, how to get plans to buildings. It only took me a few minutes to get the layout of your apartment and the ventilation system. You have great ductwork, wide for strong airflow and plenty of room to move. I could see right through the grates, too. I watched you writing your hack novels, cooking breakfast, making love to Kate Beckett. She's quite a lay."

The mesh rattles as Castle shakes it, his eyes flaming. "You bastard! But if you like watching so much, why did you set me up? With me in here, you don't have your sick little porn show."

"I wanted another kind of show, Castle. I wanted to see you go through what I had to go through. And I wanted to hear you beg. So plead with me, Castle. Tell me not to kill your lover while she reaches for you in her dreams."

Backed by Ryan and Esposito, Kate aims her weapon at Tyson. "You're not killing me or anyone else, Jerry. You're done being the puppet master. You're going where you can't pull any more strings." Kate lunges forward to grab Tyson's gun as Ryan and Esposito cover her. "Down on your knees, hands behind your head." She jams Tyson's weapon into her waistband at the small of her back and snaps the cuffs on his wrists as tightly as she can. "You OK, Babe?" she asks, gazing up at Castle.

Rick grins. "Never better."

* * *

Kate snuggles into Castle's shoulder as they touch crystal flutes of Champagne. "Jerry Tyson will never get the chance to go after another victim, and you made it happen, Babe."

"We all made it happen; you, me, Wong, Ryan, Esposito — even Gates. She went along with the plan. I just wish that Gardner would finish nailing the Mosses too."

Kate lightly strokes Rick's hand. "I checked with Gardner's office. They're getting close to indictments. At least a lot of the drug operations have been taken out. That's going to save a lot of people. And it looks like Bracken is going to testify."

"What did they promise him?"

"Not much. A step down from maximum security. Limited access to the internet — monitored — and some television privileges. But I got the impression he wanted to do it. Apparently, if he's going down, he wants to take them down with him — hard."

"Normally, I'm not a fan of spiteful sentiments, but in this case, I approve." Rick's eyes flick around the loft. "It still gives me the chills to know that Tyson was here. I feel like I should get the place fumigated or something. I am going to get sensors installed in the ventilation system. And it would be great to get away from the city for a little while. You have the weekend off, don't you?"

"Uh-huh. For a change."

"Could you add a vacation day or two?"

"I'd have to clear it with Gates, but with the publicity the 12th got for capturing a serial killer, she's feeling pretty good — even about you. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"We've never been to my house in the Hamptons together. With getting into Fall, the breeze is coming off the ocean. It's probably a bit chilly out there, but the pool is heated, there's a hot tub, and the view is spectacular. I have a part-time housekeeper who keeps the kitchen stocked and the furniture from getting too deep in dust. We could cuddle by the fireplace, share a glass of that red wine you love so much, and do whatever else comes to our minds or any other portions of our anatomies. I'm caught up with Black Pawn right now, and I know I can use a break. I'm pretty sure you can too."

"I'll check with Gates, but it sounds great."

* * *

With the wind nipping at his face, Castle is almost hesitant to slip out of his thick robe, even into warm churning waters. His mouth gapes as he notices that when Kate sheds her terry cover-up, there is nothing beneath it but Kate. As mist swirls around her face, he hurries to submerge himself to join her. "You forgot your suit."

"I didn't forget. I wanted to get the full stimulation of the jets."

"And what other stimulation are you craving?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Rick's hand reaches unimpeded into intimate territory. "Something like this?"

Kate arches at his touch. "That's a definite start, but," Her mouth presses against his as the impingement of a bubbly stream brings her breasts to full attention. The water splashes on the redwood deck surrounding the tub as they seek more profound pleasure. Kate's fingers encircle Rick's growing arousal, guiding it inward as her legs wrap around his back.

The puddles on the deck grow, as the couple moves together, oblivious of anything except their urgency to experience more of each other. The wind picks up, unnoticed, as the heat of their bodies melds with that of the liquid surrounding them. Kate's internal waves challenge the roiling of the ocean in the distance as she and Rick explode into fulfillment together. They cling to each other in the afterglow.

"Do you hear something?" Kate asks, slowly returning to awareness.

Castle forces himself through his post-loving haze. "Someone is coming up the steps from the beach. They lead right to the cabana. There's no fence there."

Kate reaches for her cover-up as a body emerges from the changing area and falls into the pool. Castle pulls himself out of the tub and peers into the deep end where a body is floating face down, with a line of red seeping into the surrounding water. "I'll get him out. Call 911."

* * *

Chief Brady poises his pencil over his notepad. "So, he just fell into your pool?"

"We heard him climbing up from the beach, but yes," Castle confirms. "We took turns keeping up CPR until the medics arrived, but he never showed any signs of coming around."

"And you have no idea who he is?" Brady queries.

"Not a one," Castle replies.

Brady regards Kate. "How about you, Ma'am?"

"I've never seen him before, but I've never been to Rick's beach house before, either."

Brady nods knowingly. "I see."

"It's not what you think, Brady," Castle interjects.

The police chief nods again. "Don't worry, Ma'am, Mr. Castle. This is the Hamptons. We know how to be discreet."


	53. Chapter 53

Too Close

Chapter 53

"Chief Brady," Rick explains, "this is Detective Kate Beckett. I shadow her at the N.Y.P.D. to research my books, and I brought her here for some well-deserved R &R."

"I'm a homicide detective," Kate adds, "but occasionally I have to go undercover. So I would appreciate it if you'd keep my name and image out of any publicity this case might attract."

"Of course, Detective Beckett," Brady agrees. "I'll consider it a professional courtesy. And I have to confess something. I've never had to handle a homicide before. Most of my job consists of controlling traffic when celebrities are spotted in the village and taking complaints about dogs pooping on neighbors' lawns. I would appreciate any insights you can offer as to how to approach the investigation."

"Chief Brady, the first thing you have to do is establish a timeline," Kate instructs. "You know the time of death pretty much to the minute, from what Mr. Castle and I were able to tell you, but the M.E. should be able to estimate how long the victim — Randall Franklin, right — could have survived with his wound. As soon as you know that, you can figure out with whom he had contact during that period and whether they had a motive to kill him. In the meantime, you can have your people make a canvass of the area and find out if anyone besides Mr. Castle and myself saw anything."

"Brady's chest expands against his uniform. "I have Deputy Jones doing that right now."

"Just Deputy Jones?" Kate asks.

"I don't have much of a budget," Brady confides.

A loud rapping sounds from the front door. "I'll get it," Castle volunteers. Brady and Kate follow him as he reveals their visitor.

Deputy Jones stands on the threshold holding a scruffy cuffed man who appears barely conscious. "I found this guy sleeping on the private beach. I've had to roust him before. His name is Cassius McMurray, and he had the victim's wallet."

"Then I guess that does it," Brady declares. "I won't impose on your time off any further, Detective Beckett."

"Chief," Kate cautions, "just because McMurray had the victim's wallet, doesn't mean he killed him. He doesn't even have any blood on him. If he fired a gun, he should have gunshot residue on his hands. And he barely seems capable of holding a weapon, let alone aiming one."

"He could have just found the wallet," Castle adds.

Brady scowls at Rick before turning his attention back to Kate. "Detective Beckett, I appreciate your input, I really do, but I can take it from here. I'll make sure we run the test. You enjoy your weekend."

"You think McMurray killed Franklin?" Castle asks Kate as they watch Brady and Jones retreat with their prisoner.

"I don't know, Castle. He could have. He was in the area. But I doubt it. Chief Brady will find out one way or another, and we didn't come out here to investigate a murder."

Castle draws her inside and kicks the door closed. "You're right. We didn't. And it was cold out there. You have goosy bumps on your lovely arms. What would you say about building a fire and curling up with some cocoa — perhaps with an alcoholic addition."

"Sounds great. And ooh! Do you think your housekeeper bought any of the cookies dipped in the dark chocolate?"

Castle grabs a quick kiss. "Let's check the pantry and find out."

* * *

Brady frowns at the negative results of the tests for gunshot residue on McMurray's hands and clothes, and the positive drug test. Jones' suspect didn't pull the trigger, and anything he might say as a witness won't be worth much. Brady doesn't even have a preliminary M.E.'s report, and he still has a murder on his hands with nothing to go on. He may have to grovel a little and see what he can do about getting some help from Beckett and maybe even Castle.

* * *

Propping his head on his elbow, Castle smiles down as Beckett slowly opens her eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning, yourself. Is that coffee I smell?"

"It is indeed. I set the timer on the coffee maker before we turned in last night. And we have all sorts of choices for breakfast. Aside from the traditional eggs, I noticed some bagels in the freezer that we can toast, or I can make pancakes or waffles."

The bagels will be great. If we bundle up a little, we could take them and our coffee out to those terrific chairs you have on the lawn and watch the waves come in while we eat."

"Sounds like a plan," Castle agrees.

* * *

"What do you think Randall Franklin was doing on the beach below my house?" Castle wonders, taking a sip of his too rapidly cooling coffee.

"Castle, I thought we weren't going to talk about the case."

"I know, but the man died in my swimming pool. I can't help being curious about what he was doing here."

Kate sighs. "OK, what would have brought someone to this area? Might Franklin have been visiting one of your neighbors?"

Rick's coffee sloshes over the edge of his cup as he jumps to his feet, snapping his fingers. "Yes! Dougie Shapiro was having a party. I got an invitation, but I had no idea I'd be out here, so I declined. In any case, I'd rather be alone with you than exchange cocktail chatter. I still have the invitation site on my computer. We can see if Franklin was on the list."

Fetching his laptop from the house, Castle scrolls through his old mail. "Here it is! Franklin was invited. I can call Dougie and see if he was there."

"Well?" Kate asks as Castle stuffs his phone in the pocket of the hoodie he's wearing against the morning chill.

"Shapiro says Franklin was there and left hand-in-hand with a woman named Natalia Roosevelt. I've met her. She runs a local watering hole. We could go there for a drink."

"At 10 o'clock in the morning?"

"We could go for lunch. As I recall, she serves one heck of a Reuben sandwich. The French dip isn't bad either. And I'm sure we can find a way to fill the time until then."

Kate drapes her arms around Rick's neck. "I can think of a few things."

* * *

Rick pulls the frill-topped pick out of half of his sandwich and waves it toward a laughing woman in a red dress. "That's Natalia."

"She's not exactly grief-stricken," Kate notes. "You think she knows that Franklin is dead?"

"Probably. News spreads pretty fast in the village. If nothing else, it would have gotten around that Deputy Jones was asking questions. We should talk to her."

"Castle, we're way out of my jurisdiction, and Brady made it pretty clear that he thinks he can handle the case."

"I'll be subtle." Castle smiles at Natalia and signals for her to come to the table. "I just wanted to compliment you on the sandwiches. After Randall Franklin ended up dead in my pool, I wasn't sure I'd want to eat anything again for a while, but this really broke the curse. You were at Doug Shapiro's party with him, weren't you?"

Natalia's eyes narrow. "Along with half the people who have houses along the beach. Why?"

"I was wondering if you had any idea what might have happened. Doug said you left with Franklin."

"I already told Chief Brady that I have no idea. Randall got a call — from his wife. So I came to work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other customers. I'm glad you're enjoying your sandwich."

Castle wiggles his eyebrows at Kate as Natalia stalks off. "The spurned mistress and the wife. Curiouser and curiouser."


	54. Chapter 54

Too Close

Chapter 54

"You know the statistics. About a third of the time, it is the spouse," Kate muses.

"Assuming she was in the Hamptons. Why would Franklin risk meeting Natalia at Shapiro's party if his wife was around? And if Natalia already talked to Chief Brady, she would have told him about the call," Castle adds. "He probably would have questioned the wife if she was here."

Kate uses a napkin to wipe a bit of mustard from her lower lip. "You have a point. But it's possible that call was what put Franklin in front of a bullet. We should run a check on Franklin and see what he was into."

"This case is going to nag at you until we get it figured out, isn't it?"

"I guess it is," Kate admits. "But I don't have access to the N.Y.P.D. network from here. Ryan and Esposito are on duty this weekend. Maybe they can run Franklin and his wife for us. They'll have to duck Gates to use N.Y.P.D. resources on an outside investigation. That might require a little incentive."

"Never fear, your fount of incentives is here," Castle declares.

* * *

Kate shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "I can't believe they asked for a week, each with the Ferrari and your floor seats for the Knicks."

"They drive a hard bargain," Castle agrees, "but since Reggie, I'm off basketball anyway. And the Ferrari won't be as much fun as they think. In midtown traffic, it's as slow as any other car. They'd have to take it away from the city to put pedal to the metal. You and I usually take the Mercedes anyway, as we did coming here. I'm considering selling the Ferrari."

"Castle, don't tell me you're thinking of putting aside your childish ways."

"From what I've noticed, the pleasures we enjoy together aren't things of childhood, and I'm not giving up laser tag. Alexis promised she'd still play with me on school breaks. But when I bought the Ferrari, I was at loose ends and looking for something to excite me. If I want excitement now, I don't have to look any further than the exquisite woman who still has mustard on the corner of her mouth."

Kate grabs her napkin again. "I thought I got it all off."

Castle leans across the table. "Never mind. I always have a taste for the hot and spicy." He moves in for a kiss. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation at the house. It will fill the time until the boys get back to us about the Franklins."

"Perhaps we can." Kate purrs, running the tip of her index finger over his lips.

* * *

Kate's cellphone sounds as she and Castle are toweling off from a shower, and she thumbs the speaker. "Beckett, you really walked into something with Randall Franklin," Ryan reports.

"He has a history," Esposito adds, "and it isn't pretty. Randall was involved in ginning up investments in Lehman Brothers before the crash and had his money in Lehman's too. He and his wife were living high — house in the Hamptons, fancy cars, a boat."

"After the recession hit," Ryan continues, "it looked like they would lose everything, then all of a sudden they were flush again. We talked to Randall's wife. They have an apartment in Tribeca."

"Not cheap," Castle comments.

"Looked more expensive than your loft, Castle," Esposito inserts. "The wife claims that Randall invested what they had left in real estate and hit it big when the market came back. He told her that he was networking at Shapiro's party. She called him to find out how it went, but he said he had no luck."

"That must have been the call that Natalia mentioned," Kate notes.

"But here's the thing," Ryan interjects. "We checked, and the properties Franklin supposedly owns were on Mandy Michaels' list of drug-producing sites."

"So Franklin is fronting for the Mosses," Castle concludes.

"Deputy Jones' suspect, Cassius McMurray, was drugged to the gills. Franklin might also have been distributing in the Hamptons," Kate speculates.

"There have been drugs out here for a long time, not so much the street stuff, but chemical amusements at celebrity parties. There was a house that burned down not too long ago," Castle recalls. "It was shared by members of a heavy metal band who got so high they set off some of their pyrotechnics inside. They barely made it out alive."

"Castle, do you have any friends out here who might know about drug dealers?" Kate asks.

"They wouldn't be friends, Kate. I wouldn't want anyone like that near Alexis. And McMurray didn't look like he got whatever he was on at a party, at least not the kind they have around here. Maybe Franklin was more than a front. Maybe he was the Hampton's distributer for the Mosses. The way their operations are being dismantled, he might have decided to get greedy and grab what he could while he could."

"Right," Kate agrees, "and been taken out by a remaining operative. And we know who might have seen someone like that around."

"McMurray!" they exclaim together.

* * *

"You think Chief Brady will let us talk to McMurray?" Castle wonders, hesitantly reaching for the handle of the door to the local police station. "As soon as Jones presented him with a suspect, he became pretty territorial."

"He hasn't announced an arrest of Franklin's murderer yet," Kate points out. "That must mean he knows by now that McMurray didn't do it. I can offer my help, and we'll see what happens."

Brady waves as Kate and Rick approach his office. "Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, I'm glad you're here. Sit down. Coffee? It's fresh."

"Please," Kate responds.

Castle sniffs appreciatively as Brady hands him a warm mug of dark brew. "Ah, Flavor Country."

"McMurray didn't have any gunshot residue on his hands," Brady admits. "And as far as I can tell, had no motive. We didn't find the murder weapon either. And the medical examiner thought that Franklin would have died within an hour of being shot, maybe less. Even if he could have thought straight enough to do it, McMurray probably wouldn't have had a chance to conceal a gun. I don't think he did it, and I don't have any other suspects."

"Is he still here?" Kate asks. "Can we talk to him?"

"You can try," Brady allows, "but he hasn't been making much sense."

With an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, Castle takes a seat on the left of McMurray on the bench in the holding cell. Kate sits on the right, while Brady looks on. McMurray stares appreciatively at Kate's breasts. "If you're going to be here, Brady can keep me locked up."

"We may be able to help you get out of here," Kate suggests. "Did you see anyone on the beach where you found Randall Franklin's wallet?"

"There was no one on the beach, but there was a shark in the water — a big one with red eyes. It could have killed Franklin."

"Sharks don't usually use guns, McMurray," Castle points out.

"This one did," McMurray insists. "I heard a shot, and then I went into the dune grass and hid for a little while and took a leak. But nothing happened after that, so I came back to the beach. That's when I found the wallet and fell asleep until that goon Jones woke me up."

Kate shakes her head. "A red-eyed shark with a gun. You must have been hallucinating."

Brady grins. "Maybe not."


	55. Chapter 55

Too Close

Chapter 55

Castle gazes at the neon-tubing shark glowing on a ship at the marina. "That's what McMurray saw!"

Kate turns to the harbormaster, Marty Bentley. "Who owns that boat?"

"Terrence McGinnis, he's a grand-nephew of Ben Moss."

"The Mosses have a compound in Sagaponack," Brady adds. "That village is too rich for the blood of even our wealthier homeowners. The tax money would be great if we had the Mosses here, but it wouldn't be worth disturbing our residents with the noise."

"What noise?" Kate demands.

"Helicopters. From what the Sagaponack Chief told me, they go to and from the city and boats at sea at all hours."

Castle raises an eyebrow at Kate. "Have a guess as to what would be on those copters?"

Kate nods, chewing on her lip. "Something that might have ended up in McMurray. Mr. Bentley, if McGinnis is a Moss, why is his boat anchored here instead of Sagaponack? Doesn't that village have a marina?"

Bentley lets out a breathy whistle. "Oh yeah. But it's more for yachts than crafts this size. Sometimes McGinnis takes this one out on pretty much a moment's notice."

"Did he have it out when Franklin was killed?" Brady asks.

Bentley strokes the stubble forming on his chin. "I'd have to check my log to be sure, but I believe he did."

"McGinnis has a small house of his own here." Brady adds, "back near the woods. We should go see him."

"We should check the boat first," Kate suggests. "Drugs or the murder weapon might be aboard. How fast can you get a warrant, Chief?"

"Pretty fast," Brady replies, consulting his watch. "Judge Brown should be finishing up on the bench right about now. I can catch him before he goes off to Shelty's for a beer."

* * *

"I didn't find a gun, Chief," Jones reports.

"McGinnis probably threw it overboard," Castle assumes.

"But I did find bullets for a 38," Jones continues.

"Franklin was shot with a 38," Brady notes.

Castle points to a panel, slightly uneven with the rest of the hull. "I bet there's a nice hidey-hole under there."

Brady pries the aluminum sheet free. "Nothing much in there now."

Kate points. "There's a little white powder in the corners. Do you have a test kit?"

Jones produces one from his pocket. Kate applies a solution that immediately turns blue. "You need to take a picture of that, Chief, and have a confirmation test run on the residue, but you have more than enough probable cause to go after McGinnis."

* * *

"Sure, I took my boat out," Terrence McGinnis responds to Chief Brady's questioning. "I take it out all the time. I like to fish."

"You always fish with a 38?" Kate asks.

"Not very sporting," Castle adds. "Or maybe you give your finny friends something special to hook them."

"We found evidence of drugs on your boat," Brady announces, "and ammunition."

"I want my lawyer," McGinnis demands.

"Not a bad idea," Castle remarks as Brady pulls out his handcuffs.

* * *

"It's ironic," Castle notes, breathing in the bouquet of a glass of 2000 Châteauneuf du Pape. "We came out here to take a break from crime-busting, and we found another nail to seal the coffin on the Mosses. It took quite a bit of time from our getaway. Are you sorry?"

"That we didn't have more time to ourselves, yes. That we got McGinnis, no. The way he was sweating when Brady took him in, he and his lawyer have probably put their heads together already about what he can do to try to save his skin. He'll make a deal. Evan Gardner's people are going to want to talk to him. Narcotics and the DEA will, too, as well as questioning Mrs. Franklin. She must have some idea about what her husband was doing."

"She may want to find herself an actual real estate person. I doubt she'll be able to hang on to the apartment in Tribeca very long. But we get to hang around here for another day. What's your pleasure?" Castle queries. "More hot tub? Beachcombing? Alexis and I have picked up some great shells and driftwood here. You never know what's going to turn up on the sand."

"Just as long as what turns up isn't another body, that would be nice."

* * *

Castle is sorting through a stack of graphics fans can select from for autographing, when a high voice penetrates his concentration. "Can you sign my chest?"

"I'm sorry, I don't…Kate! What are you doing here?"

"We have a body, Castle."

"I thought the Battle Mountain sword fighting was getting overenthusiastic. Did some poor elf or dwarf meet his end at the slash of a blade?"

"Different universe. The victim is in the Nebula Nine experience."

"Ugh! Kate, you know I'm a fan of science fiction, but good science fiction — Star Trek, Battlestar, that Whedon thing that was canceled too soon. Nebula Nine had lousy production values and a ridiculous catchphrase. 'May fortune guide your journey.' Really?"

Kate steps back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Fine, Castle. Then you can sit here and sign whatever you're going to sign. Ryan and Esposito can help me with this one."

Castle throws out his hand. "Whoa, whoa! Kate, are you mad at me? Oh, God! Are you a Nebbie?"

Color suffuses Kate's face. "I was a Nebbie when I was at Stanford. Maybe I still am, a little. I check the Nebbie site now and then. Listen, Castle. When I went to school in California, I was 3,000 miles from my friends and my parents. I needed something to hold on to. Nebula Nine was it."

"I get it. Whenever Mother sent me to a new school, I clung to my fantasy worlds like a life raft. I even wrote fanfic — not that there was anywhere to post it back then. I did send a few stories into fanzines. So if Nebula Nine was your thing, I might question your taste a little, but I understand your steadfast affection for the show. So lead the way."

* * *

Perlmutter stands over the body of a woman in the oracle chamber, puzzlement on his hound dog features. Castle regards the victim. "A dark hole over her heart, no blood, and no other obvious wounds. What was the cause of death?"

"I'll have to get her back to the lab to determine that, Castle," Perlmutter retorts, "unless you have a tricorder."

"Tricorders were Star Trek. The Nebula Nine universe would have used vitality scanners, except they were lost in the pilot," Castle informs the dour M.E. "Pretty dumb, if you ask me, having the crew lose their vital medical equipment on their virgin foray into space." He catches Kate's scowl. "Sorry. They did use empaths as a substitute, but that was a steal from Star Trek too — the episode where Gem healed Dr. McCoy."

"Castle," Kate warns.

"Sorry again. Nebula Nine was, um, borrowing from the best." He stares down at the body. "That looks like a laser blaster burn."

Perlmutter rolls his eyes in disgust. "Detective Beckett, I will let you know as soon as I have something definitive to tell you, but I assure you, the killer did not originate in outer space."

Castle gazes around the Nebula Nine bridge. "I have to admit. This is cool."

"The best the 23rd century had to offer," an authoritative voice behind them announces.

Kate spins around, her mouth open. "Captain Max!"

"The one and only. Now, how long until we can get this voyage underway again?"


	56. Chapter 56

Too Close

Chapter 56

"Captain Max, Mr. Winters, I'm honored to meet you, Sir, but unfortunately, this is a murder scene."

Gabriel Winters presses his knuckles to his forehead. "No one knows that better than your captain. I am ravaged by sorrow. Annabelle Collins, the tragically departed, was the savior of Nebula Nine. She put us back at the front of science fiction fandom and started the Nebula Nine experience. But for the sake of the mission, we must carry on. You know, you would make an incredible Lt. Chloe."

Moisture shines in Kate's eyes. "She was my character in a Nebula Nine Club."

Winters' eyes sweep down Kate's body. "I'm sure her uniform suited you perfectly. You have no idea how many actresses we had to audition to find one who looked good in that skirt. Too bad Stephanie's acting skills weren't as outstanding as her legs," he adds, muttering under his breath.

"Chloe was amazing," Kate gushes, ignoring Winters' last murmured comment. "She was a scientist and a warrior. Who wouldn't aspire to that? But I am truly sorry, Mr. Winters."

"As a faithful fan, you can call me, Captain," Winters interrupts.

"Captain," Kate repeats, "our police scientists will have to go over the scene thoroughly before we can release it. And my people will have to interview all possible witnesses. I hope you can understand."

"A captain must face many obstacles," Winters declares. "You can reach me at my hotel when you are ready for the ship to resume flight."

"I'll need to interview you, too, Captain."

As Castle grits his teeth, Winters' gaze retraces Kate's curves. "I am at your service."

* * *

Ryan signals to Kate as she ushers Gabriel Winters into Interrogation. She smiles back at Winters as Castle follows her out of the room. "Beckett," Ryan begins, "Esposito and I talked to the fans who were working the Nebula Nine booth. There's some stuff you need to know about Winters. He was working for the vic, Annabelle Collins. She purchased the rights to Nebula Nine for practically nothing and brought the franchise back to life. Winters hadn't had a real acting job in years and was barely making a living signing autographs at cons and doing ads for local car dealerships when Annabelle hired him. But she was going to fire him. He was showing up late and drunk or not showing up at all. And when she went looking for him, she found him in his hotel room with three Lt. Chloe's and a bottle of Jim Beam."

"So who inherits the rights to Nebula Nine?" Castle asks.

"Audrey O'Neill. She is one of the people we talked to in the booth. Audrey was Annabelle's partner. Their agreement has a survivor's clause. "

"Which would give her a perfect motive to kill Annabelle and try to put it on the captain." Kate speculates.

"Except that she was telling the truth about Winters. Esposito and I checked with the hotel staff. Housekeeping has had a hell of a time cleaning up after him. They were drawing straws to see who had to change the sheets."

Castle grimaces. "Eww. That is a visual that won't soon fade."

Kate sighs. "All right, Ryan, thanks. Come on, Castle. Let's go talk to Winters."

Castle stares through the glass at the actor. "Disappointing, huh? I'm sorry, Kate. This reminds me of the Saturday Night Live sketch, where William Shatner tells a bunch of Trekkies to move out of their parents' basement and get a life. It caused such an uproar that he had to go back and explain that he was portraying the evil Captain Kirk created by a transporter accident. I know how hard it is when your idols fall. "

"Winters wasn't my idol, just the actor who portrayed him. Captain Max will always be Captain Max, like Captain Kirk will always be Captain Kirk."

"And Captain Mal?" Castle queries, met by Kate's confused silence. "Never mind. Did Perlmutter give you a time of death?"

"He said 10 o'clock last night, plus or minus a half-hour or so, but he still wouldn't give me the cause. We can check with him later."

"Ready?" Castle inquires, pointing at the door to interrogation.

"Yeah, sure. As ready as I'll ever be."

"Ah, Lt. Chloe, at last," Winters greets Kate.

"That's Detective Beckett, Mr. Winters. From what I've heard, you've had plenty of Lt. Chloes — enough for Annabelle Collins to threaten to fire you."

Winters shakes his head. "She threatened all the time. She would never have really done it. What's the ship without its captain?"

"Safer?" Castle suggests. "Unless Star Command built an intoxilyzer into the command chair."

"That's cruel," Winters protests. "I may like a little nip and feminine company, but I would never jeopardize my vessel."

Kate leans on the table, staring down at Winters. "Let's get to the point. Where were you around ten last night?"

"As you have apparently become aware, I enjoy feminine companionship. As a result, last night, I felt a burning need to make an emergency trip to a doctor." He winks at Castle. "If you know what I mean."

"Forget your raincoat?" Castle inquires.

"I prefer my encounters au naturel, but I admit there are drawbacks," Winters confesses. "At 10 o'clock last night, large amounts of antibiotics were being injected into my veins. I can give you the name of the physician."

"As an alibi goes, eww," Castle comments after Kate allows Winters to leave, "but I don't see how he could have killed Annabelle."

"We'll double-check, but that hardly seems like something he'd make up. Let's drop by the morgue. Perlmutter must have a cause of death by now. If we can find the weapon, maybe we can find the killer."

* * *

"Annabelle Collins was killed by a highly enhanced and coherent beam of light," Perlmutter announces.

Castle guffaws. "In other words, a laser. Perlmutter, it must have hurt you almost as much to admit that as it would to get hit by a beam yourself. A Nebula Nine killing with a laser blaster. How poetic."

"Castle, it still has nothing to do with outer space," Perlmutter insists. "The U.S. military uses laser weapons."

"Right. I wrote one into a Derrick Storm, but it was mounted on a tank. Someone out there is making lasers someone could smuggle onto a spaceship — or at least a mockup. For my honor as a sci-fi weapons aficionado, as well as to solve Annabelle's murder, I need to find out who." Castle yanks his cellphone from his pocket and begins rapidly thumbing in characters. "If I crowdsource this to my Twitter followers, I should have an answer in no time."

"Is he serious?" Perlmutter asks Kate.

Kate glances appreciatively at Rick as he sends out his message. "It's worked for us before. You want to get a burger at Remy's while we wait, Castle?"

"Given the spirit of the case, I'm surprised you aren't seeking out proper spacefaring rations, like vitamin enriched protein cubes. But a burger at Remy's sound's perfect to me. I bet we'll have a lead on our blaster master before you can finish your milkshake."

* * *

Using a long spoon, Kate scoops the last of the strawberry ice cream from the bottom of her glass while Rick checks his phone. "Anything, Babe?"

"No, not yet. Ooh! I mean, yes! According to Castlefan1586, just now, there's a guy over the river in Jersey near the docks, by the name of Benjamin Donnelly, who deals in all sorts of incredible stuff. He has Bat'leths, sonic screwdrivers, and laser blasters. How could I not know about this?"

"You do now, Castle. Let's go find Mr. Donnelly."


	57. Chapter 57

Too Close

Chapter 57

"I'm Detective Beckett. I need to talk to you, Mr. Donnelly," Kate calls into the intercom next to the vehicle-sized metal door of a warehouse. She turns to Castle. "No response. Maybe he's not here."

"Let me try," Castle suggests. "Hal, open the pod bay doors."

The door creaks slowly upward before leaving room for Kate and Castle to duck underneath. Sirens and red beams of light immediately meet them. "State your business," a voice thunders through a speaker.

Kate swallows and holds up her badge. "Mr. Donnelly, I just want to ask you some questions. I have reason to believe that one of your weapons may have been used in a murder."

A small, balding man emerges from behind a curtain. "Hey, this is all a giant show! My merchandise is sold for entertainment purposes only. My customers don't go around killing people."

"It appears that one of them may have, Mr. Donnelly," Kate informs him.

Castle points to a laser blaster displayed on a table. "Have you sold any of these recently?"

Donnelly nods. "One. The buyer said he wanted it as a present for his girlfriend. According to him, she's a Supernebbie."

"And who was the buyer?" Kate presses.

"I don't know. He was dressed like a Creaver, complete with the mask, and he paid cash. He wasn't from New York or Jersey, though. His accent was from the South, one of the Carolina's maybe, very soft-spoken. Good thing Creavers only hiss. His voice wouldn't have fit the character at all."

Castle caresses the handle of a blaster. "I'd love to have one of these. Can I test fire it?"

"It's better if it's fired wearing gauntlets. Those only come with Nebula Nine security gear."

"They would enhance the effect," Castle agrees."

"Not for drama," Donnelly explains. "The explosive device that powers the energy pump drives tiny particles into your skin, somewhat like gunpowder residue from a conventional weapon. Normally, they're just as invisible, but they glow blue under ultraviolet light, and it can take weeks for the effect to fade."

* * *

"A Supernebbie girlfriend," Kate considers as she drives back to Manhattan. "That could have been Annabelle herself or Audrey."

"I'd put my money on Audrey," Castle declares. "She had the best motive, and you can't get more Supernebbie than sticking yourself in a booth on the con sales floor. You miss all the other fun."

"Let's see if we can track down the Creaver and ask him," Kate suggests. "You have to register to get a Supernova Con pass, don't you? Wouldn't you have to give your I.D. information?"

"Kate, I get the distinct idea that you knew the answer to that question before you asked it. In most cases, that's true. Fans who want VIP, gold, silver, or bronze passes order them early and usually receive them by mail. Their addresses would be on record. However, a walk-in could pay cash for general admission, but if he came in as a Creaver, I imagine someone at the desk would remember."

"Let's check both places."

Castle glances at his watch. "You'll have to do it solo. I need to do some groveling for Black Pawn. They promised Dark Pony, the publisher of the Derrick Storm graphic novels, that I'd be promoting them here, and I'm getting called on the carpet for deserting my post."

"Sorry, Babe. I didn't even think about that when I came to get you."

"Not your fault. I could have begged off, but I couldn't resist a Nebula Nine murder."

"What are you going to say?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something."

* * *

Frank Powers, PR director at Dark Pony Comics, regards Castle with an unrelenting scowl. "Have you any idea how many sales we can lose because the face of Derrick Storm was not around to hawk his hero? It's not just the potential readers who can make it to a con. It's all the rest who watch the con wrap-ups on video and read the reviews on the fan sites. Your negligence is going to blow a big hole in both Dark Pony profits and, may I add, your royalties."

"So, what can I do to make it up?" Castle inquires.

"We need an event, something big enough to be picked up by the major fan media outlets."

"Bringing a murderer to justice won't do it?"

"No, you need some star power, Castle. Look, Frakes is at Supernova Con, directing a feature about fans and cons. God knows why, but he's one of your fans, isn't he?"

"He's tweeted me now and then when he's appreciated a plotline. The first time it happened, I was so star-struck, I was almost afraid to answer him. Commander Riker. Star Trek Universe. You can't get much bigger than that, at least not in the con world."

"Exactly my point," Powers agrees. "So get yourself interviewed for his film, and we may be able to clean up this mess yet."

"How did it go?" Kate asks when Castle meets her back at the loft.

"Better than I expected. Dark Pony wants me to worm my way into a feature Frakes is doing. The thing is, he already came by my table before you arrived, and told me that he is my biggest fan. I nearly pooped my pants, but I couldn't help thinking how the mighty have fallen. Nonetheless, I jumped at his invitation to be part of a panel on the significant contributions of people regarded as nerds to science, art, literature, and culture. He'll be filming it, and Dark Pony doesn't have to know how easy doing my penance will be. All I have to do is show up."

"Sweet! When, Babe?"

"Ten a.m. tomorrow in Hall G. So how did you do today? Did you track down our Creaver?"

"I think so. The only person at the con from the Carolinas is a Simon Westport. Registration didn't have a record of where he's staying, but he's signed up for a photo op with Stan Lee tomorrow. We should be able to catch him there."

"Stan Lee! Wow! You had to enter a lottery to get a photo op with him."

"Well, apparently, Westport is one of the lucky winners. So we'll snag him and find out what he was doing with a laser blaster. But the photo op isn't until noon. You'll have time to do your panel first."

"Are you coming?"

"If I can. I had Ryan and Espo post on the Nebbie website to see if anyone saw someone around the Nebula Nine experience during our kill zone. All three of us could be conducting interviews. We'll have to see who answers the post. Espo is looking forward to questioning some of the female fans. His eyes have been practically jumping out of his head at some of the costumes. He mentioned a fur bikini."

"Maybe he'll become a convert to cons."

Kate shrugs. "I don't know. I think his venue of choice for outfits that cover the least and suggest the most is still Strippers-A-Go-Go. But anything is possible."

"So, I continually discover. And what do you think is possible for us tonight?"

"I thought that we could watch a few episodes of Nebula Nine. I know you don't think much of the show, but seeing it again would refresh my memory, and something might pop that would give us a clue to solving the case. Are you game?"

"Depends. Do you still have your Lt. Chloe uniform?"

"I do. And if you'll watch with me tonight, I'll wear it for you when we've solved the case. Deal?"

"Deal."


	58. Chapter 58

Too Close

Chapter 58

You've barely stopped squirming since we started watching," Castle notes, "and you've hardly touched the popcorn. I put extra butter on it, too. What's wrong?"

"A lot of things," Kate admits. "When I watched Nebula Nine as a teenager, I just knew the characters on the screen, and I romanticized those. I didn't know much about the actors. Gabriel Winters and Stephanie Frye, who plays Lt. Chloe, got written up in some of the fan mags, but those were puff pieces. Now when I look at Captain Max, I can't help but think about the jerk that played him. And back then, Stephanie couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. Her performance as Chloe is stilted or melodramatic, with nothing in between. I'm not sure if that's comical or sad. Maybe a little of both."

"Hey, as Captain Kirk, William Shatner was," Castle dramatically pauses between words while making sweeping hand gestures, "'over – the – top,' on a regular basis. Fans imitated the way he talked and even made fun of it. They still do. But he is a beloved icon all the same. So you suspended your disbelief and perhaps artistic judgment for a while when you enjoyed Nebula Nine. That's no crime, Kate. It's a memory to be treasured because it gave you security and comfort."

"That's sweet, Castle, but I don't think I want to watch anymore. Let's just go to bed."

"I'm fine with that. And if you still need comfort, I can find creative ways to offer it."

Kate reaches her hand up to cup his face. "I'm sure you can."

* * *

Kate is surprised that Rick gets in fewer words than anyone else on the dais. Castle finds himself even more starstruck with the genuine astronaut on the panel than he ever was with any sci-fi star. When the moderator asks him how a fascination with science and technology, as well as the fictionalized versions has affected his life, he shares his experience discovering myriad factoids during long hours spent in the public library. But as rare as it may seem for him, he's more interested in listening to the other panelists than trying to provide wisdom of his own.

"You look a little — I don't know — humbled," Kate observes after Castle leaves the stage.

"I guess I am. As a bestselling author, I get on the talk shows and Page 6, but it's nothing compared to Scott Kelly or the inventors, scientists, or mathematicians we were discussing. They changed the face of the world. All of my favorite toys came out of work they did, and all I do is give people a fun read."

"Babe, believe me, that makes a difference. I'm not sure how I would have made it through my mother's death without those reads. And in the process of researching your books, you help me bring the bad guys to justice for real."

"I do, don't I?" Castle acknowledges. "Speaking of which, we need to go hunt down Simon Westport. Stan Lee should be set up at the Marvel booth."

Kate nods. "The boys managed to get a North Carolina DMV photo so that we can recognize Westport without his Creaver costume. It shouldn't be too hard to find him."

* * *

"I got that blaster as a gift for Annabelle," Simon confides. "We had kind of a 'Same Time Next Year' thing going with Supernova Con. We'd always meet up, catch up over a Galaxy Burst and have a good time. I gave it to her the afternoon before she — you know. She said she was going to put it on display in the ship as part of the Nebula Nine experience.

"She had responsibilities onboard. Anabelle made sure the costumes weren't damaged, and the equipment was working right. She said she also had a meeting with a member of the original cast, but we were going to hook up at a midnight Ray Harryhausen retrospective.

"She never showed up." Simon draws a shaky breath. "Now, I know why. After I found out what happened, I wanted to head back home to grieve. You know? But Annabelle was so excited that I scored in the Stan Lee lottery that I thought I owed it to her to stay and get my photo op."

"Do you know which cast member Annabelle was meeting?" Kate asks.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't. But I know that Annabelle was trying to replace Gabriel Winters. I wish I could be more help."

"You have helped," Kate assures him, "but keep sticking around, OK? I may need to talk to you again."

"All right," Westport agrees. "I originally planned to participate in the cosplay competition anyway. I spent months putting together my Creaver costume. Annabelle thought it was very authentic."

"So we've heard," Castle remarks. "Good luck."

* * *

"You think he did it?" Castle asks as he and Kate are returning to the scene of the crime. "He was Annabelle's significant other."

"For about two days a year." Kate shakes her head. "If he wanted to dump Annabelle, all he would have had to do is stop showing up. We need to find out who that cast member was. The boys should have some of the witnesses lined up at the ship. If I hadn't talked to Winters' doctor myself, after what Westport said, I'd be rechecking Captain Max's alibi."

"Looks like quite a group," Castle observes, regarding the gathering of costumed con-goers.

Esposito grins, as a woman strategically covered only in leaves, writes her phone number on one and hands it to him. "Having a good time?" Kate asks.

Esposito coughs. "Just getting contact information."

"Right," Castle agrees as the next potential witness steps up and begins making clicking noises.

"He only speaks Mersatonian," a fan costumed as a crab explains.

"Can you translate?" Ryan asks.

"I'm not really fluent," the crab apologizes, "but I think he said something about a hot woman."

"A common topic of conversation among male con attendees," Castle observes.

A teenager in twin Harley Quinn ponytails and a pissed-off expression moves up next. "I saw someone at the Nebula Nine experience last night. They told me it was closed, but Annabelle let her right in."

"Can you describe her?" Kate asks.

"I can do better than that, I can tell you her name," the teen responds. "It was Stephanie Frye, Lt. Chloe."

"I'm surprised Stephanie was here," Castle says. "She must have found herself a decent acting coach. She's beginning to get a career besides doing shampoo commercials. Our one-time Chloe was up for a golden globe for a supporting role in a movie last year. Still a creature feature, but a good one. And I heard there's going to be a sequel. Why would she be looking back toward Nebula Nine?"

Kate pulls up the con schedule on her phone and runs the search function. "Stephanie Frye is appearing at a panel this afternoon — sci-fi actors escaping the stigma of early roles. That makes your question even more relevant, Castle. We should be able to catch her in the green room."

* * *

"I don't know what your witness was talking about," Stephanie claims. "Maybe it was a hallucination. A lot of the geeks who come here get into the Jovian Joy Juice. I heard it's made with magic mushrooms."

"I've had it," Castle declares. "Not bad stuff, but the only magic it wreaks is putting you into sugar shock and turning your tongue blue."

Kate grabs a UV light from her purse and shines it on Stephanie Frye's hands. "That's not the only thing turning blue."


	59. Chapter 59

Too Close

Chapter 59

Stephanie stares down at the glow. "I don't know where that came from. I must have touched some of the crazy stuff around here."

"You touched something all right," Castle informs her, "a laser blaster."

"That's right!" Stephanie hastily agrees. "Annabelle showed me one that looked just like the props we used on Nebula Nine."

"Except that the one that left that residue on your hand was no prop," Kate declares. "You could only get it on you by firing the weapon - and killing Annabelle."

"I've been on cop shows. I know I don't have to say anything. I want a lawyer," Stephanie demands.

"You better hope that whoever you get is as good as the ones on TV," Castle counsels.

* * *

"What's going to happen to Stephanie Frye?" Castle asks through the door as Kate is changing clothes in the master bathroom of the loft.

"She's decided to go to trial. Apparently, she feels her acting skills will be good enough to convince a jury that she suffered temporary insanity. From what I've heard, she is planning to assert that after working so hard to establish herself as a credible actress, Annabelle's revival of Nebula Nine drove her over the brink."

"Could that fly?" Castle asks.

Kate's giggles penetrate the bathroom door. "About as well as the mock-up of the ship at the con. Stephanie would have to prove that Annabelle's actions made her incapable of distinguishing right from wrong. Maybe Meryl Streep could pull that off, but I can't see Stephanie succeeding. I'll have to testify as a witness, so I won't be able to watch her try. They'll keep me out of the courtroom, but they might let you in, Babe. Maybe you can give me a blow by blow."

"I will happily direct my breath anywhere you wish and…" Castle's lungs come to a full stop as Kate emerges. "Wow, Winters was right about one thing. You do look incredible in that uniform. Rick's hands trace the lines of her body. "But it's going to be even more fun exploring what's under it."

"In that case," Kate replies, "may fortune guide your journey."

* * *

"What do you hear?" Ben Moss asks his son Bill.

"Not much. Evan Gardner's office is pretty leak-tight. But everything they've seized and everyone they've picked up can be connected to us if Gardner's people are smart enough to do it. My sources at the prison say Bracken's been talking. It would need corroboration, but he could still give them the whole ball of wax."

"Can you have someone take care of him?" Ben asks.

"It will take some doing. Bracken's in the segregated population. But there's a guard who makes too many trips to Atlantic City and is very unlucky at the tables. Given the right incentives, he could be useful to us. And I can bring in our guy who terminated Laura Cambridge. He's still below the radar."

"He'll need to take out both Bracken and your cooperative guard," Ben instructs.

"Of course," Bill agrees. "It will take a couple of days to get things set up."

"ASAP, son," Ben cautions. "We can't let Gardner come out with his indictment first."

"I'm on it," Bill promises.

* * *

Castle returns from a vending machine with cans of Dr. Pepper and diet root beer, to see Kate holding her phone and scribbling on a pad. "Body?"

Kate nods as she finishes taking notes.

"Who's the victim?" Castle asks after Kate finishes her call.

"James Swan."

"The leader of Holy Shemp?"

"I didn't know you were a fan."

"I'm not, but Alexis went through about three weeks of obsession with the group, and those guitar riffs are etched on my brain. Where's the body?"

"In his trailer. Lanie's already on her way. Ryan and Espo will be joining her, and so will I. Are you coming? I thought you have a meeting today."

"Just with my business manager. I can reschedule. He's looking at some investments for me that will keep Meredith busy. He's already sent me an outline, and I've got a pretty good grasp of the details. I just have to sign off on spending the money."

"Castle, does Meredith have any idea that you're underwriting her career?"

"I'm not. She's not Stephanie Frye. Meredith's acting skills are impressive. I've realized some profit from the indie films I've supported that featured her. That's helped make up for what I'm shelling out for alimony. Those roles also, to my relief and Alexis', keep Meredith away from New York."

"I thought you enjoyed a little ex-sex with the "deep-fried Twinkie."

"In a weak, vulnerable, and ill-considered moment. But Kate, that was just sex. To me, and I hope to you, what we do is make love. That makes all the difference in the world."

"I suppose I could say the same about my relationship with Josh. We liked each other, and the sex was good, but we never made love. What you and I share is a first for me."

Castle smiles ruefully. "Wow! After hearing that, I should be able to scoop you up and carry you off to our bed, not go stare at a dead body."

"Dead body first, Castle. Body contact later."

"I look forward to it."

* * *

"What the hell!" Kate exclaims. "Get those cameras out of here!"

The director of a documentary film crew in James Swan's trailer presents Kate with an official document. "We have permission to film anything we want. The city signed off on it."

Kate's fingernails dig into her palms. "Damn! All right. Just try to stay out of the way and don't touch anything. We'll have to get the fingerprints of your whole crew so that we can exclude them. We may need DNA, as well."

"That's exciting," one of the crew members comments.

"If you think that's exciting, you should go out on the mean streets with us," Esposito suggests. "That's where the real police work takes place."

The director nods enthusiastically. "I'll take you up on that. I'd also like to film in your precinct. We want to capture every detail of how you solve this tragic murder."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Give me a break!"

"You know, Kate, having the film crew around might not be such a bad thing," Castle comforts as he and Kate walk the perimeter of the crime scene. "It will give you a chance to strut your stuff, show the great detective that you are."

"I'm not crazy about publicity, Castle. You know that. I just want to do my job. Tripping over these guys is going to make that harder."

"But if their documentary showcases your detecting skills, won't that add to your credibility when you testify in court?"

"You may have a point, Babe. I hadn't thought about it that way. I suppose there might be an upside to a little publicity if it helps me put scumbags where they belong."

"Great. Then you can show the world, or at least whoever watches the video, that the most gorgeous detective on the force is also the most capable. Ooh! Maybe I should get Mother's hair designer to give you a consultation. Mr. Vivian knows what pops on camera."

Kate shoves stray strands behind her ear. "No thanks, Castle. I'll let my work as a cop, speak for itself. And I want to let any possible witnesses speak for themselves too. I saw a roadie loading some equipment, and the film crew isn't bothering him yet. Let's go talk to him."

"As the detective wishes."


	60. Chapter 60

Too Close

Chapter 60

Hank carefully packs a speaker into the back of a truck and wipes his hands on his pants. "I've been working for James and Holy Shemp for a while now, but I don't know who would want to kill James."

"You must be pretty good at noticing things," Castle suggests, pointing to the "observe" tattoo on Hank's arm.

Hank swallows. "Yeah, I guess so. But Detective Beckett was asking about James. Our fans love him, sometimes too much."

"What do you mean?" Kate asks.

"We have a lot of groupies. I mean, a lot of bands do, but James is - was - really popular. The girls would do anything for some time with him. He liked it, but it still wore on him sometimes. And the girls' parents didn't always like it either."

"Do you think any of them would be angry enough to go after James?" Kate queries.

"I don't know, but some of them have screamed at him or sent emails. And there was a guy hanging around in a white van. I think security got the license plate. The driver seemed pretty squirrely."

Kate hands Hank her card. "Thanks, that's helpful. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to give me a call."

"Sounds like we should seek out the obviously ineffective security forces," Castle notes.

"Right," Kate agrees, "but I want to go back to James' trailer first to make sure the film crew isn't screwing things up too much."

* * *

"Looks like they've finished here," Castle observes, glancing around Swan's depopulated digs.

"Yeah, but CSU is going to have a harder job, and so will we. Even with excluding the crew's prints and DNA, with all the traffic, it will be harder to tie any trace evidence to the killer."

Castle freezes. "Wait! Do you hear that?"

Kate points to a louvered closet. "It's coming from there." Drawing her weapon, she pulls open the door to reveal a half-naked young woman huddling under a pile of costumes and whimpering.

The frightened girl throws out her hands. "Please don't shoot me. I didn't do anything!"

Kate lowers her gun. "Calm down. I'm a cop. This is my partner, Mr. Castle. We're not going to hurt you. What are you doing in there?"

"I was in the bathroom after James and I just — um, you know. And I heard him yelling with some guy outside. And then it sounded like they were fighting. I was scared, so I hid until it was quiet. But when I peeked out, I saw James on the floor. I tried to wake him, but I couldn't. He wasn't breathing. I was afraid the killer would come back, so I hid again. I think I fell asleep. When I was with James, he gave me some good stuff. I don't remember anything else until you came."

"What's your name?" Castle asks.

"Everyone calls me Butterfly because I flit from gig to gig. I've followed Holy Shemp from the beginning." Butterfly sniffs and rubs her eyes. "I knew how amazing James was before the band ever recorded. He said I was his good luck charm. I guess not, huh?"

"Butterfly, what happened to James isn't your fault," Kate assures her, "but maybe you can help us find the person who killed him. Did you see the man who did it at all, maybe through the slats of the closet?"

"I was too scared to look," Butterfly admits staring down at the floor. "But I heard something. His footsteps were weird as if he was walking on snow." Her fingers curl into fists. "Crunch! Crunch!"

"Butterfly, how much 'good stuff' did James give you?" Castle asks.

"Enough to make everything soft and dreamy."

"Uh-huh," Castle acknowledges.

Kate lays a gentle hand on Butterfly's shoulder. "Do you have more clothes to put on? I'm going to have some nice officers take you to the precinct where you'll be safe. "

"All right," Butterfly agrees and points to a Holy Shemp jacket on a chair next to the bed. "I need to wear that. I always did. It was James' favorite."

"Of course," Kate allows, silently vowing to have a little talk with the cops who claimed to have cleared the scene but somehow missed the closet.

* * *

"We've seen that van a lot," security lead Tarrant recalls. "It has Jersey plates." He pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I have the number in my notes. D99LEV."

"Have you ever seen the driver?" Kate asks.

"I've seen him behind the wheel a couple of times. Stocky dude, red hair with some gray. He's never done anything threatening that gave us a reason to roust him. He parks at a distance and watches everything the band does. He acts like he's looking for someone or something."

"Something James might have had?" Castle inquires.

Tarrant shrugs. "I don't know, but he watched James at least as much as he watched anyone else in the band."

As she and Castle return to her unit, Kate starts to put out a BOLO on the van, but Castle touches her arm and points. "In those trees. That looks like the back of a white van."

"It sure does. I'll call in some backup, and we'll find out just what the driver found so fascinating about James Swan and Holy Shemp."

* * *

Joe Silva buries his face in his hands as he sits at the table in Interrogation. Kate holds up an evidence bag with a bloodstained coverall. "Where did the blood come from Mr. Silva?"

"It's mine," Joe claims, raising his head. I was opening a can of chili and got clumsy. I cut myself on the rim. He holds up his hand. See for yourself."

"That's a lot of blood for cutting your fingers, Mr. Silva," Kate points out.

"I have a heart problem. I take blood thinners. They make me bleed a lot. My pills are in my van. I'll need them if I'm going to be here much longer."

Kate throws the coverall on the table. "We'll check on that, but what were you doing hanging around Holy Shemp besides eating chili, Mr. Silva?"

"I was following my daughter. She thinks she's in love with James Swan. She left school and all her friends and her mother and me to follow the damn band. I keep trying to talk some sense into her and bring her home, but most of the time, I can't get near her."

"Your daughter wouldn't go by the name of Butterfly, would she?" Castle inquires.

Silva springs up, leaning across the table. "Yes, she does. Did you see her? Do you know where she is?"

"Sit down, Mr. Silva," Kate orders. "We'll check out your story, and if you're telling us the truth, we may be able to help you."

* * *

Kate peruses the blood typing report on the coverall. "Silva was right, Castle. The blood is his. And his prints weren't in the trailer, which puts us back at square one. We'll have to check out every member of the band and anyone else who would have had access to James Swan's trailer."

"Are we going to have to start that now?" Castle asks. "You're way past the end of your shift, and we did have, um, plans for some very personal contact."

The tip of Kate's tongue rounds her lips. "Yes, we did. And it is getting late. We can start fresh on the investigation in the morning."

Wiggling his eyebrows, Castle grins. "Sounds good to me. I can think of some things we can start fresh on tonight."

Kate runs her finger over the buckle of his belt. "Babe, I wouldn't doubt that for a minute."


	61. Chapter 61

Too Close

Chapter 61

Kate's back is cold. Sleepily she gropes Rick's side of the bed, finding it empty. Slowly shedding the remnants of slumber, she pads barefoot into the office where Castle is hunched intently over his computer. "What are you doing, Babe?"

"I kept thinking about how nervous Hank was when I mentioned his tattoo, and I wanted to see if I could figure out why," Castle explains, his eyes never leaving his screen."

"Did you find anything?"

"Maybe. I was using a find-the-image program. I couldn't locate an 'observe' tattoo, but I found one almost like it in the same font. It says 'serve.' Every member of a cult run by some charismatic crazy named John Campbell is required to have one. I think Hank had the 'O' and 'B' added to disguise his history."

"Castle, it's not that unusual for people to leave cults and regret their membership."

"Not this cult, Kate. Once you're in it, you're in it for life. If you attempt to leave, Campbell comes after you, smears you, and sabotages any attempts you make to get a job. Deserters are on their own in a cold, unfriendly world. But here's the kicker, I think James Swan might have grown up under Campbell's thrall too."

"There was no tattoo on James' body."

"True, but the members don't get one until they turn 18 and are considered confirmed in the faith. I went to the chat room Alexis hung out in when she was a Swanie. James' fans are conducting an online wake of sorts. They're posting retrospectives and personal remembrances. There's one from a Caroline. She says she was in the cult with James when he was 15, except back then he was Bobby McCollough. His parents came into an inheritance and paid Campbell to let them go. Once they were back in the real world, they adopted the name of 'Swan,' as in the story of the ugly duckling coming into his own."

"So you think Hank and James have a cult connection that might have something to do with James' murder?"

"I think it's worth checking out."

"Fine," Kate agrees. "We can run deep background on them when we get to the precinct in," she glances at the corner of Castle's screen, "four hours. But come back to bed now. We can get in at least two more hours of sleep — or whatever."

Castle snaps his laptop shut. "Whatever sounds like a lot more fun."

* * *

Kate groans as she steps off the elevator and spots the film crew. "Damn, Castle, how are we ever going to get any work done with them here?"

"Ignore them," Castle counsels. "They're supposed to be shooting a documentary, right? Let them document real police work. Anyway, Gates seems to be basking in their attention. Wow! She's actually smiling."

"Welcome to the Twelfth Precinct," Gates proclaims. "I'm Victoria Gates, the captain. I'm in charge of all operations here. As you can see, every officer under my command works hard to serve, protect, and bring justice to this city. As you know, we are investigating the murder of James Swan. Detective Beckett is lead on the case, but I always try to stay involved with what my detectives are doing." Gates beckons to Kate. "Detective Beckett, could you explain how we are pursuing the case?"

"Go ahead, Kate," Castle whispers. "You've got this."

Kate hesitantly approaches camera range. "Uh, solving a murder, any murder, not just that of a celebrity is a deliberate step-by-step process. We carefully develop a timeline based on the time of death set by the medical examiner. We establish who would have had the opportunity to attack the victim and what possible motives might be. We question suspects and integrate our findings with forensic evidence such and blood and DNA."

"And what have you found out by questioning suspects so far?" Gates prompts.

"We managed to eliminate an early person of interest; however, we have uncovered a new path for investigation. And I really need to work on that now, if the captain will excuse me." Kate strides away before Gates has a chance to object.

"As you can see," Gates recovers, "our detectives are dedicated to their work, but you are free to observe and film them as they proceed."

"Good exit," Castle murmurs as Kate drops into her chair at her desk. "If you want to take Hank, I'll continue with the McCulloughs, aka Swans."

"Sounds good," Kate agrees.

* * *

Kate rakes her hair back from her face. "Damn!"

Castle looks up from his research on a tablet. "What's the matter?"

"Until a few months ago, Hank didn't exist. There are no school records, no credit cards, no job history, nothing. Holy Shemp must be paying him under the table. He doesn't have a Social Security number either.

"That would make sense if he was living in Campbell's compound. It's completely self-contained. They grow their own food and have their own teachers to indoctrinate the children. They also produce their own merchandise, rumored to include high-grade marijuana. The only ones that venture outside the walls are Campbell himself and his inner circle. They sell what Campbell's essentially slave labor produces, promote his ideology, and recruit new members. James must have helped Hank get out somehow. So much of what I've read about James is PR stuff. I wonder if the film crew got anything more personal. We should ask them."

Kate winces, hissing through her teeth. "Really, Castle? I'd rather stay away from them as much as possible."

Rick reaches for her hand. "Hey, I know. But won't it be easier to home in on who killed James if we know more about him? They've had more chance to dig than we have, and from what I can make out, James was cooperating."

"All right," Kate sighs, "but if they don't have anything helpful, you owe me a bag of M&Ms."

"Agreed."

* * *

"We've worked very hard getting to the heart of James Swan's passion for music and especially his love for his guitar," director Zippy Jordan explains.

"Was the guitar the murderer beat him with was especially meaningful?" Kate asks.

"According to James, it was the one on which he learned his best riffs. But he thought there was someone a lot better. He said so on camera. I can cue it up for you."

A video James Swan looks sincerely into the camera. "I know that people give a lot of credit for Holy Shemp's success to the arrangements I've written around my guitar riffs. But the truth is, I would have never even been able to play them without the help of an incredible teacher. All the time I was growing up, he encouraged me to try new chords and perfect my sound. He would help me practice long hours and master the techniques I needed. I may be good, but he was better, and I wish he could be playing with the band."

"Why can't he?" Zippy's voice comes from off-camera.

"That's between him and me, but he has his reasons," James insists. "Still, I'll be forever grateful for everything he taught me, and I look forward to the time when we can play together again. I'm working on a way to make that happen."

"What do you think James meant by make it happen?" Castle asks Zippy when the clip ends.

The director spreads his hands in bewilderment. "James would never say any more about it than that. But he was working on a new song. He wouldn't play it for us, but I got the impression it was for a solo cut. Maybe he wanted his teacher, whoever it is, to back him up."

"If he was thinking of going solo, that would have been a threat to Holy Shemp," Castle realizes. "That could have pissed off his bandmates big time."

"Yeah," Kate agrees. "Maybe enough to beat him to death with his favorite guitar. We need to talk to Hank again. He knows a lot more than he told us."


	62. Chapter 62

Too Close

Chapter 62

"Yeah, James and I knew each other when we were trapped in Campbell's cult," Hank admits. "We worked on the guitar together."

"You were his teacher, weren't you?" Castle asks.

"That's what he said," Hank concedes. "But anything I taught him is nothing compared with what he did for me. He went to Campbell and gave him $25,000 to let me go. And he said he was working on a way that I could play with him again."

"Play with him, how?" Kate presses.

"He wrote a new song and put in the riffs we developed together. He took it to a producer to look at. They were going to get some studio time to put it out."

"With James as a solo artist?" Castle wonders. "Was he planning to leave Holy Shemp?"

"He never said he was, but he did say he had plans if the song worked out. They had something to do with me, but I'm not sure what. But whatever James wanted isn't going to happen now. I don't even know if Holy Shemp will keep me on as a roadie. That was all James. If they're going to keep the band together, they'll need a new lead. They may need a new guitar player too. James had to do some of the riffs Zeke couldn't handle. He didn't think Zeke was up to any of the music he wrote recently."

Hank, do you have a copy of James' new song?" Castle asks.

"No, but the producer does. His name is Sam Spear."

Kate pulls out her phone. "Espo, there's something I need you to get."

* * *

"What the hell!" Esposito exclaims, outside the door of a converted industrial loft. "Someone's screaming in there!"

"Javi, wait!" Ryan cautions as a kick from Esposito's foot splinters wood.

Sam Spear looks up from his sound mixer as Esposito bursts into the room, pointing his gun at the producer. Sam raises his hands. "Hey, I don't have any money here, and my equipment is specialized. You won't be able to fence it."

"We're not fencing anything. We're cops! Where's the girl who was screaming?"

"Bro," Ryan interrupts. "I tried to tell you. There's no girl. It was an effect. This guy makes novelty records. My brother-in-law used one at his last Halloween party. He has a security company. Scared half his operatives."

"Good to know it was so effective," Spear comments. "Can I put my hands down?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Esposito allows.

"Sorry about the door," Ryan adds. "The department will pay to fix it. We came to ask you about some music written by James Swan. Do you have it?"

"Oh, yeah. I was bummed to hear about his death — huge loss to the music world. Great piece. Exciting chord progressions. I'll get it for you."

Esposito looks over Ryan's shoulder as he studies octave jumps and runs of 16th notes. "I could play that."

Ryan glances skeptically at his partner. "Right. Sure, you could."

* * *

"Did you get Bracken transferred?" Bill Moss inquires anxiously.

"I did," Louis McKinley confirms, "but the warden will review the paperwork at the end of the month. I'll have to cover my tracks by then."

"No problem," Moss assures him. "My guy can get the job done long before that."

"I don't need to know any more," McKinley declares. "Just send me the cash."

"It will be arriving before the end of the day," Moss promises.

"It better," McKinley responds. "I have debts to pay."

"I know," Moss agrees. After McKinley ends the call, Moss texts a code and waits. His VOIP line rings a moment later. "All set. Can you take care of both errands today?"

A raspy voice comes through the receiver. "It's a go."

* * *

Zippy Jordan is busily filming Holy Shemp's auditions when Kate and Castle arrive. He immediately signals his cameraman to keep them in the frame.

Castle holds up a sheet of music, addressing the band. "You guys might want to take a stab at this. It was James Swan's latest." Rick gives the paper to Zeke. "Why don't you show your potential recruits how it's done?"

Zeke eyes the notes before coming off the stage to hand the music to the next hopeful, his boots making the sound of feet crunching on ice-crusted snow. "Let's see how well you read."

"What's the matter, Zeke? Can't play it yourself?" Castle taunts.

"Of course, I can play it!" Zeke retorts, crunching his way back up the stairs and grabbing his guitar. His fingers struggle to execute the first riff.

"You can't handle it, can you, Zeke?" Castle accuses as Kate wraps her fingers around the grip of her gun. "James was thinking of firing you and hiring someone who could. What did he do, hand you his guitar so you could make your case?"

"But instead, you beat him to death with it," Kate continues. "Then you wiped off all the prints, yours and his. Too bad, there was a witness."

"There was no witness," Zeke protests. "There was no one in that trailer but me and James."

"Murder 101," Castle remarks, as Kate snaps handcuffs on the incompetent musician. "You should always check the closet."

* * *

Squatting on the cold steel of the toilet of his cell, Bracken rebukes the unfamiliar official staring at him. "I'm supposed to have privileges. Give me some privacy."

With his back to the surveillance camera, Nick Lekuta produces a small blowpipe out of his pocket and silently fires a lethal dart. "Your privileges have expired."

* * *

Louis McKinley anxiously pulls open the door of his apartment when he spies a man holding a large envelope, through the peephole. "Is that from M?"

"He sends you his regards," Lekuta rasps, and hands over his parcel.

Closing the door behind him, McKinley tears open the flap of his package, slashing his finger. "Sonofabitch," he mutters, sticking the wounded digit in his mouth - and slumps to the floor.

* * *

Esposito is doing his best to keep up with Hank and what's left of Holy Shemp as they jam for the camera at the Twelfth.

"Espo's not that bad," Kate remarks.

"Not that bad is a perfect description," Castle agrees. "Unfortunately, not that good would fit as well. Any chance we can get out of here?"

"No way, Babe. Gates is writing herself a script for her last chance in front of the camera. She wants everyone to get into the act, and we can't sneak out until she finishes putting on her show."

"When's she planning to do that?

"She said about six, so she can make date night with her husband."

"Castle checks his watch. "It's five-thirty. Do we really have to listen to this until then? I wish we had some of those ear protectors we use on the range."

Kate smiles and winks. "I have a better idea. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Castle asks, hurrying after her.

"You'll see." Grabbing Castle by the hand, Kate pushes open the door to the janitor's closet. "The cleaning crew won't be around until nine. No one will bother us in here. We can even lock the door."

"I saw a place like this once in an old Peter O'Toole and Audrey Hepburn movie," Castle recalls. "They were hiding there until Peter O'Toole fooled the guards in a French museum into turning off the alarms so he could steal a statue. As I recall, Peter and Audrey had a wonderful time together while they were waiting."

"I believe," Kate purrs, reaching for his belt buckle, "we can have a pretty good time too."


	63. Chapter 63

Too Close

Chapter 63

"That wasn't too bad," Castle offers as Kate snuggles into his shoulder for the walk back to the loft. "I think Gates missed her calling. She should be in PR. She certainly enjoys being in front of a camera." Castle picks a bit of straw out of Kate's hair. "Good thing Zippy was too busy with Gates to turn the camera on you."

"I think the broom was shedding," Kate remarks. "There were bristles all over the floor."

"Transforming 'roll in the hay,' from a metaphor to a true life experience," Castle quips. "And of all the time I've spent with you at the 12th, that interlude was the best 25 minutes ever. We will always have the janitor's closet. Hmm, somehow that doesn't have quite the ring of 'We'll always have Paris,' but it has its own brand of romance. I was thinking when we get home, we could…"

Kate's cellphone buzzes, and her eyebrows rise as she regards the ID. "It's Evan Gardner's office. I'll put it on speaker."

"Detective Beckett, this is Lila Baylor, Mr. Gardner's assistant. He asked me to call you before what happened is reported in the press."

"What will be reported in the press?" Kate demands.

"William Bracken was found dead in his cell. We don't have any details yet except that he didn't die of natural causes. We have people on the way to the prison now. Mr. Gardner said to tell you we'll keep you updated."

"Thank you, Ms. Baylor. Please let Mr. Gardner know that I appreciate the effort."

Castle draws Kate against his side as the call ends, but she continues staring at her phone. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. No! Not even close. I wanted Bracken in a hole for the rest of his life. I wanted to see him become a decayed wreck who would die slowly and in pain. But before that, I wanted to see his testimony take down the Mosses. Now, none of that is going to happen."

"Kate, Gardner has other witnesses and other evidence. What he got from Reggie alone is damning. Add in what we found out in the Hamptons and all the other connections to the Mosses, and Gardner doesn't need Bracken."

"But I did. I needed to know that no matter how long it took, justice would be done, and he'd spend the rest of his life paying for what he did. I feel — I don't know."

Castle holds her more tightly. "Cheated?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So what can I do, Kate?"

"When we get to the loft, you can pour me some – a lot - of your Scotch. But before that, can you call Bob Weldon and ask him to apply some pressure to get Bracken's body sent to Lanie? I want to be sure of exactly what happened and that no evidence on the body is missed. And even if Weldon has to piss Gates off by going to the commissioner, I want in on Bracken's murder."

"All right, Kate. I'll call him right now."

* * *

Kate stares down at the body, mostly covered by a sheet. "Lanie, I've seen Bracken's face in newspaper photos, on TV and when I arrested him. It never looked like that. It's like all the muscles stopped working."

"Pretty close," Lanie agrees. "He was shot with a dart containing a paralytic."

"Like curare?" Castle asks. "He was killed in prison, not the depths of the Amazon."

"Paralytics similar to curare are used in surgery, Castle. If the killer knew where to look, he wouldn't have had much trouble finding it." Lanie points to a body on the next table. "But Bracken wasn't the only one taken out by the drug. This guy also had it in his bloodstream."

"Who is he?" Kate asks.

"He was a guard at Rikers, Louis McKinley. He died less than two hours after Bracken did."

"That can't be a coincidence," Castle asserts.

Kate nods grimly. "No, it can't. Louis McKinley was connected to Bracken's death and probably to the Mosses. We need to find out how."

* * *

Castle lays a mug of fresh coffee on Kate's desk as she leafs through a sheaf of papers. Are those McKinley's financials?"

"Uh-huh. They just came in. I've barely had time to take a look, but I think he was in bad shape." She holds out part of the stack. "Can you go through these? You read faster than I do."

"I will be pleased to offer any assistance I can." Castle quickly scans through the figures. "Hmm."

"What?" Kate asks.

"The Taj Mahal."

"McKinley went to Agra?"

"He took a much shorter trip, looks like a lot of trips, to the Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City. He was a chronic gambler, and apparently not a very good one. There's something about that casino." Castle closes his eyes to visualize an old newspaper story. "Right. Years ago, Victor Baron used to own the Taj Mahal. He staged a few of his beauty pageants there, but a deal came along that he couldn't pass up. He sold the casino for almost twice what should have been the going rate at the time."

"Sounds like a money-laundering scheme. What better place to deal with a lot of cash than a casino? Who bought it?"

"It was one of those corporate things, a division inside a shell, inside another shell. I think the papers got bored before they tracked down the real purchasers."

Kate's teeth find her lower lip. "But the state gaming commission would know. They'd have to sign off on the sale. Feel like a trip to New Jersey?"

"I can think of more enticing destinations, especially this time of year. But I will happily follow you anywhere."

"You won't have to follow me," Kate points out. "You'll be in the passenger seat."

* * *

Charlie Melman pulls a thick file from a fireproof cabinet in a storage room. "The sale of the Taj Mahal goes back before we started digitizing our records and no one ever got around to doing it. It was before my time, but I've heard some mutterings over the years that the transaction wasn't quite kosher. No one was ever able to prove anything, and after a while, no one tried. The state gets a lot of tax revenue from the Taj Mahal and the powers that be would not be happy to see it dry up. There's a Xerox machine at the end of the hall. You can make copies of anything you need. Just give the file back to me when you're done."

Castle measures the thickness of the file between his fingers. "I hope the copier isn't a one sheet at a time dinosaur, or we could be here all day."

"Babe, if we can find a link to whoever ordered Bracken and McKinley to be taken out, it will be worth the time," Kate declares as they walk toward a humming mechanical behemoth. "Whenever we're done, we can go to that steakhouse you were eying lovingly on our way here. My treat."

"All the more reason to get through our chore as quickly as possible," Castle declares." Ooh, looks like we got lucky. This thing not only takes multiple pages, it collates and staples. I want a baked potato with my steak – sour cream and chives. And I hope they have some decent desserts. I'm in the mood for something sweet."

Kate winks. "I think we can take care of that at home."


	64. Chapter 64

Too Close

Chapter 64

Yawning, Castle is fighting to keep the document he's studying in focus when a familiar name jumps out. "Kate, Randall Franklin was involved with the purchase of the Taj Mahal. Lehman Bros. was one of the participating investment firms, and he was handling the account. This reeks of the Mosses. He must have discovered their drug operation and wanted in."

Kate slaps her palm on the table where they've spread out the Taj Mahal paperwork, the sound vibrating through the loft. "Great! Another dead witness."

"Kate, we know that Franklin wasn't exactly the faithful type, but if he was doing business with the Mosses all those years, his wife must have known something about it. Maybe when the boys interviewed her, her talk about scoring in real estate was just part of the cover story she and Randall cooked up about how they supported their lifestyle. If a guy runs around like that, his wife is going to keep her ear to the ground."

Kate's eyes narrow. "Is that experience talking, Castle?"

"Kate, I'd hope you know me better than that. I never cheated on my wives, but I have more than a few acquaintances that did. It didn't make for a sympathetic judge at divorce proceedings."

"Sorry, Babe, I shouldn't have gone there. And you have a point. First chance we get tomorrow, we should have a chat with the widow Franklin."

* * *

"Look," Yetta Franklin insists, "Randall didn't talk much about his business, and I didn't ask. I made sure I had a couple of separate accounts. It was safer that way. He didn't keep much of his work at home, the list of properties I gave those detectives was one of the few things I knew about, but I think he kept a little office uptown somewhere."

"Do you have an address?" Kate asks.

"Nothing exact, but when he got into a cab, I heard him mention one on 77th Street. It sounded like it was on the Westside. And he might have been using a different name. Back when he worked a boiler room, you know, telemarketing, he used Morey Johnson. He said it sounded more trustworthy."

Castle's already pulling out his phone as he and Kate return to their unit. "Kate, there is an address on 77th Street listed for a Morey Johnson. Looks like it's between Columbus and Amsterdam. Wow! That would put it only a few blocks from the museum and the planetarium. I love that neighborhood!"

"I'm not surprised, Castle, but let's save looking at dinosaur bones and stargazing until we nail the Mosses for Bracken and McKinley's murder."

"I just hope we're not fossils by then, " Castle grumbles.

* * *

The manager of Astra Executive suites, Jesus Gomez, unlocks the door to the office of a Morey Johnson. "I'm glad you people are here," he tells Kate. "Johnson hasn't been showing up, and he's behind on the rent. He paid month to month in cash, and I have no way to track him down."

"You would have to try the cemetery," Castle remarks. "He met an unfortunate end."

"Sorry to hear that," Johnson says. "Any idea where I should send his stuff?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave it in place for now," Kate advises. "It may be evidence in multiple investigations, but we'll let you know about the disposition of his effects as soon as possible."

As Gomez departs, Castle surveys the small office. "The term 'suite' is an exaggeration, but it's a few steps up from a mail drop. This place would have given Franklin an unexpected base to plan and pursue his dirty deeds. Look at that. He's got a desktop computer." Castle reaches for the switch to boot the machine. "This may take a while. This thing is at least five years old. I hope he kept his operating system updates current."

"While the blue wheel spins, let's check out the filing cabinets," Kate suggests.

Castle pulls out a drawer. "Ooh! I can see why he'd keep this away from his wife. It looks like he has a fairly extensive porn collection. Not the highest quality. The photography is far from artful, but…"

"Castle!"

"Right, moving on." Rick opens another drawer and begins to flip through the files. "Oh, Kate, this is more pornographic than anything in Franklin's magazines. It's all about making and distributing drugs. He was gathering dirt on the Mosses. Maybe he thought that if the time came, he could use it for self-defense. Obviously, he never got the chance."

"But we can use it, or at least give it to Gardner. Anything about the Taj Mahal?"

Castle swiftly searches through more paperwork. "Wow! This is better than anything we've seen so far in the file from the gaming commission. Franklin documented a direct connection to the Mosses."

Kate grins. "Which will give us a link to the murder of McKinley and probably Bracken. Castle, we need to go through every comma of what Franklin has."

"The computer's up," Castle notes.

Kate points at the prompt on the screen. "We need a password."

Castle's fingers fly over the keys. "I have an idea. N-a-t-a-l-i-a." He smiles smugly as the computer chimes a welcome. "It's always the name of the pet or the mistress. Hey! Franklin has a file named 'gathers no.' What do you want to bet he's making a bad joke from the grave?"

Kate watches as text appears on the screen. "Babe, this is the motherlode! He kept track of every transaction he ever had with the Mosses, and it looks like everything he heard and saw of their operation."

Castle whistles. "That's some insurance policy."

"Or a basis for blackmail. Either way, Gardner should pop a bottle of Champagne when we deliver this. But we still have to find the connections to the murders."

"So back to slogging down the paper trail?" Castle assumes.

"Yeah," Kate confirms, "but maybe we can order some pizza to eat while we work."

"That's usually my line," Castle protests, "but I'm more than happy to go along with it. I saw a Gianino's a couple of blocks away while you were driving up here. They also have those soft breadsticks with the dipping sauce. They can bring us sodas too. I have the app on my phone, so we can order online."

"Castle, I wouldn't have expected anything else."

* * *

Nick Lekuta swirls his mop over the floor in the supply room of St. Mark's hospital. No one pays any attention to him. No one ever does. He never pushes his luck by going after narcotics. There are so many more deadly things that are scrutinized with far less care. If the inventory comes up short a vial or two here and there, it's usually attributed to a clerical error. As far as he can tell, his theft of his favorite paralytic wasn't even noticed. It might be at some point, but it wouldn't be attributed to him. What would a janitor do with a substance like that? His job is a perfect cover. He has nothing to worry about.

Administrative assistant Yancy Brown studies the alert from the N.Y.P.D. Who the hell would steal drugs only used in the OR? They'd have no street value. Still, she remembers a nurse reporting that a count came up 2 vials short. She sighs. The hospital will have to look into it. She can just imagine the speech about liability that her boss will hear from the lawyers if it doesn't.


	65. Chapter 65

Too Close

Chapter 65

Castle pushes up from the office floor where he's spread out Franklin's files. "Kate, I think I found something. A character Bill Moss was talking to caught Franklin's attention."

"Why?" Kate queries.

Castle brings the sheet of paper he's holding to her. "The man in question didn't look like someone Moss generally talked to. He was wearing a work shirt with the insignia of St. Mark's hospital on it. Franklin wondered if he might have been stealing opiates for the Mosses, but that doesn't make sense. As big as their operation was, there would be no reason to attract attention by having someone swipe the relatively small amounts of narcotics a hospital would keep on hand. Hospitals also have to document the controlled substances they use. Sooner or later, theft would be discovered. But the fellow in question might have had a pipeline to other medical supplies."

"Like paralytics."

"Bingo!"

Kate runs her finger down the page. "I don't see a name, but someone in a work shirt wouldn't have been part of St. Mark's medical staff. Maintenance, maybe. Personnel would have a list." She checks her watch. "It's eight already. If Personnel is there at all, it will just be skeleton staff, but hospitals get started early. We should get over there first thing in the morning."

"So, pack it in for the night?" Castle asks hopefully.

Kate cups his stubble-roughened cheek. "Sure, Babe. Might as well leave on a high note."

* * *

Rick flops on the couch in the loft, flexing his knees and massaging his neck. I need a shower, the hotter, the better. Care to add a little heat? We can wash each other's backs and take turns, rubbing out the kinks."

Kate pulls a bottle of red wine from the rack in the kitchen. "Sounds good, but we could loosen up with a glass of this first."

"Even better," Castle agrees.

* * *

Rick steps into the steamy enclosure and extends a hand for Kate to follow. "You know, it's traditional to talk about cops wearing through shoe leather, but mystery writers don't usually mention eye strain and muscle spasms. I think I'm going to get one of those optical scanners that reads text out loud. My computer already does it for digital files. And sometimes I hear things I miss just reading."

Kate squeezes fruity body wash on a nylon puff. "That's like the problem with witness testimony. People often see what they expect to see instead of what's actually there. That's why we check each other's reports. Sometimes you can't spot your own errors when they are staring you in the face."

Castle closes his eyes, letting the needle-like spray pound the tightness in his shoulders. "A life lesson to be sure. It's often the hardest to see what's right in front of you. The exception being when you strode into my book party. I knew what I saw the minute you appeared in your raiment of coply splendor."

"Coply splendor, Castle? Lainie was down on me because I wasn't even bothering with lipstick."

"Of which your luscious mouth has no need. As you stand, absent of adornment, you couldn't be more perfect."

Kate's fingers find the scar above her heart. "I think the shower is fogging up your eyes."

"Kate, that scar is evidence of your determination to survive and fight back. If anything, it's a badge of honor, not a flaw." Rick's lips caress the puckered flesh before finding a lower path through the water droplets clinging to Kate's skin.

The fragrant puff falls to the shower floor, as the heat of passion melds with the warmth of the water flowing over their bodies. Kate throws her arms around Rick's neck as he lifts her to him, bracing against the tiled wall. Their tongues meet in a sinuous dance as their mouths seek deeper contact.

Rick can feel Kate slick and open, inviting him in. They move in concert, each thrust more urgent than the last until the waves of completion sweep through them both. Sated, they rest, nerveless, under the continuing spray until gathering enough strength to step from their watery haven. After wrapping each other in thick warm terry, they toast the evening's discoveries with second cups of wine.

* * *

"You think that one of our maintenance people is implicated in a murder?" personnel director Laurel Curtin asks incredulously.

"Two murders, actually," Castle responds.

"It would be a man who could get access to paralytics," Kate explains.

Laurel shuffles through papers on her desk. "We got a memo yesterday about someone stealing paralytics. Yeah, here it is. All right, I'll get you a list. It won't be very long — budget cuts. We have to keep non-critical personnel to a minimum. At least a couple of these people should be on shift right now, but there will be more on during swing and graveyard."

"Good," Kate agrees, "we'll start checking backgrounds and then conduct whatever interviews are necessary."

Laurel stiffens. "We vet all our people thoroughly."

"I'm sure you do, Ms. Curtin," Kate soothes, "but the N.Y.P.D. has access to databases that are restricted to civilians, and I know I don't have to tell you that this investigation is confidential."

* * *

Leaning on her elbows in front of her computer, Kate looks up gratefully as Castle brings her a fresh espresso. "Any likely suspects?" he asks.

Kate takes a sip of dark brew. "Not yet. None of the men in maintenance have a record. The hospital would have been able to find that out for themselves. Now I'm looking into reports that wouldn't have led to an arrest."

"Like someone being a witness or questioned at the periphery of an investigation? How about someone who might have had contact with Jordan Norris? He called in a Moss hit, and we never got the perp. Do you still have his phone records?"

"They'd be with the evidence from Laura Cambridge's murder, but the killer may have changed numbers."

"If it's a matter of dial M for murder, he might lose business that way," Castle muses. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

* * *

"I'll get it," Castle volunteers as Kate reaches for a box on an upper shelf in the basement of the precinct. He carries it to a nearby table where Kate digs through the contents.

"Here they are." Kate flips through several sheets, stapled together. "This has to be it. It's a call Norris made hours before Laura died, and it's the only one to that number."

"Don't keep me in suspense," Castle pleas. "Whom did he call?"

"An N. Lekuta."

Castle bounces childlike on the balls of his feet. "There's a Nicholas Lekuta on the list that Laurel Curtin gave you. It has to be him! We found him, Kate! We found the Mosses' assassin."

"Slow down, Castle. I need to talk to him. But I don't want to spook him. We'll question all the guys on his shift, so he doesn't feel singled out."

"At which point, Kate Beckett, detective extraordinaire, will wrest the truth from her prey."

Kate rolls her eyes but smiles. "We'll see, Castle. First things first. Let's get back to St. Marks and start setting up interviews. And I need to stop at the ladies' room before we go."

"Too many espressos?"

"Maybe, but worth every drop. Let's get back upstairs. I want to grab my purse."

"And I think I'll grab one of the maple bars from that box in the breakroom — for the road," Rick adds.

Kate side bumps him as they head for the stairs. "Grab two, Castle."


	66. Chapter 66

Too Close

Chapter 66

"That was our last interview before Lekuta," Kate notes. "He's been on duty for an hour. I want to check with the boys and see what they found in his…" Her phone buzzes. "Esposito, I was just about to call. Any luck?"

"Kate, Ryan's talking about buying a bunch of lottery tickets. Lekuta didn't leave anything around, but the apartment has one of those suspended ceilings. Ryan climbed up to check one of the tiles that was a little off."

"Espo, what did he find?" Kate prompts.

"A vial labeled RSI. I Googled it. It stands for rapid sequence induction. It paralyzes stuff."

"And get this, Beckett," Ryan adds. "The vial wasn't the only thing up there. I found a blowgun and darts that look like the one that killed Bracken."

"Lekuta's our guy, Beckett," Esposito finishes.

"Hopefully, the lab can pull some DNA from that blowgun to make the final connection, but even if they can't, we should have enough evidence to convict. Castle and I are going to go talk to him now. I'll get a uniformed unit over here as back up for when I arrest him."

"Go get him, Beckett." Esposito urges. "We'll make sure there's a holding cell ready."

"Good work, guys." Kate thumbs an end to the call and makes her request to dispatch before turning to Castle. "I guess this is it. You ready?"

"Never been readier."

Nick Lekuta drops calmly into a chair in the conference room St. Marks provided for Kate to conduct her questioning. Kate smiles at him. "Mr. Lekuta, thank you for talking with us."

"Hey, it's better than mopping floors," Lekuta remarks. "You wouldn't believe some of the messes people make around here."

"I'm sure I wouldn't," Kate agrees. "Have you ever had to clean up in a room where surgical medications are stored? I imagine someone must break or spill something every now and then."

"It happens," Nick admits. "There are worse things to clean up."

"So you have been around surgical medications," Kate confirms.

The heavy wood of Nick's chair creaks as he shifts position. "I've been around just about everything in this hospital. What's this about?"

Kate gets to her feet, staring icily down at her suspect. "I think you know, Mr. Lekuta. You were not only around surgical paralytic agents. You helped yourself and used them to commit murder."

A bead of sweat appears on Lekuta's forehead as he takes a swig from a bottle of water in front of him. "I didn't take anything, and I didn't kill anyone."

"Here's a hint, Nick," Castle sticks in, "if you're going to hide murder weapons, there are better places than the ceiling."

Kate nods to the two officers who enter the room, before striding behind Lekuta. "Stand up, and put your hands behind your head. Nicholas Lekuta, you are under arrest for the murders of William Bracken, Louis McKinley, and Laura Cambridge. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"When hell freezes over," Lekuta spits out.

* * *

"You look pleased with yourself," Castle remarks, as Kate reads a text on her phone.

"This is from Lila Baylor. She said that Lekuta wants to make a deal to flip on the Mosses."

"Hell must have opened an ice skating rink."

"I think that once CSU matched the DNA from the saliva on Lekuta's blowgun to the bottle he drank from at St. Mark's, his lawyer must have urged him to do whatever he could to protect himself. And Lekuta may try to go for immunity for any other hits he made."

"Gardner's one tough cookie. I doubt Lekuta will come out with much," Castle assumes.

"I'm with you there, Babe, but whatever plea Lekuta ends up making, I want to be in court to watch it."

"Yeah, me too," Castle agrees, "but not as much as I want to see the Mosses marched off to Sing-Sing or wherever a judge sends them. And with the Mosses gone, I think Weldon may revive his bid for governor. It would be nice to have him running this state."

"But if Weldon is no longer in the mayor's office, Gates could kick you to the curb," Kate worries. "I don't want to lose my partner."

"He's going to have to leave anyway, Kate. Term limits. But it is always good to have a friend in Gracie Mansion. He's been grooming Tess Moore, the Public Advocate, to take over for him. I've been supporting her. She may be willing to return the favor."

"Castle, you can't bribe a public servant!"

"Kate, I'm wounded that you would think I'd consider such a thing, although come to think of it, I don't know what else you'd call it when the boys ask for the Ferrari or floor tickets. But anyway, Tess is as committed to library and literacy programs as Weldon is, and I'd support those no matter who runs. Tess and I have already worked on a couple of events together. I should be on her good side."

"If she loves libraries, you two are on the same page. Good to know. But Gardner has to take whatever he gets from Lekuta to the grand jury," Kate cautions. "I don't know how long it will be before we get an indictment."

"Can't be too soon for me," Castle declares.

"Yeah, me either."

* * *

The courtroom is packed, mostly with the press, but Kate and Rick managed to get seats in the third row for the sentencing of Bill and Ben Moss. Kate is barely breathing as the judge drones through the formalities, and clings to Castle's hand during the judge's pronouncement."

She continues numbly holding on as they descend the steps of the courthouse while Evan Gardner holds court with the press. "Are you all right, Kate?" Castle murmurs.

"I don't know. I can't process it all. It's like I'm watching a movie or something and waiting for the final credits to roll to let me know it's all over. After everything that's happened, that's kept happening, it seems like nothing's ever really over."

"Then maybe you should think about today as a new start," Castle suggests. "The quest for justice for your mother and the others has succeeded. What do you want to do now?"

"I think I want to get my dad and go to the cemetery to tell my mom that truth finally did conquer all. After that, I'll have to think about it."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Yeah, I do. You know, Mom would have liked you, Babe. She didn't just have a love for the truth; she shared your lust for life. And she really appreciated a good brownie."

"Well, perhaps I can bake a batch in her honor — my triple chocolate recipe. We can consume them in celebration."

"That would be nice."

Hope blossoms in Castle's thoughts as he and Kate make the trek to the lot where he parked his Mercedes. He's been waiting so long to take the next step with Kate, but the resolution of her mother's murder and everything that surrounded it has always hung over their relationship like a cloud. Perhaps now the sun can finally break through.


	67. Chapter 67

Too Close

Chapter 67

Kate uses her finger to capture a moist crumb from her napkin. "Babe, I think this is your best batch yet."

"I found a new chocolate supplier. Higher cocoa content. It takes the flavor to the next level."

"Whatever it does, is great."

Castle takes a sip of coffee and clears his throat. "You know, Kate, brownies aren't the only thing I've been wanting to take to the next level. You and I have been together for about a year now. And we've both said the three little words. I'm not getting any younger, and neither one of us can know how much time we have left. The next killer, car crash explosion, or poison latte could be right around the corner. I want to get as much out of this life as I can, and I can't see doing it without you."

"Castle, you are with me."

"Up to a point, and a very nice point it is, but I can't help feeling you're holding back. Most of the world still doesn't know that you're anything more than my muse. I want them to, Kate."

"Castle, what are you saying? You want to take out an ad in the Ledger?"

"No, Kate, I'm serious. Hang on a minute."

Kate watches as Castle makes the short walk to his office and pulls aside his Escher painting, revealing a wall safe. After punching in a code, he removes an iconic blue Tiffany's box. Quickly striding back to where Kate is sitting at the table, Rick falls to one knee in front of her. "Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"

"That's it, Castle? I was expecting some prose with a bit more punch."

Rick shakes his head, shrugging. "OK, I will do my best to channel my alter ego Rook in his Victoria Saint Claire persona. Kate, every moment I am with you is magical. You are the most remarkable, if stubborn and frustrating woman I've ever known. You are the yin to my yang; you complete my being and give my life meaning. I can't live another day or walk another step without you. Will you grant me the boon of becoming my wife?"

Kate giggles. "I think that last part slipped into Regency. Yes, Richard Alexander Edgar Rodgers Castle, I will marry you. But after all that, I'm keeping my name."

"Fair enough. No need to confuse the public as to who the greatest homicide detective in the N.Y.P.D. is. Just so long as there's no confusion about her choice of life partner."

"Castle, about that, there won't be any confusion at all — except who gets the last brownie."

"Since we're going to be two halves of the same whole, we should share it."

"Yes, we should." Castle slips a diamond ring on Kate's finger and rises, his lips meeting hers in chocolaty passion.

* * *

"Well, it's about time!" Martha declares, "I was beginning to think you two would never come to your senses."

Jim Beckett raises his glass of sparkling cider. "I wish you both all the happiness in the world. Have you set a date for the big day?"

"Not exactly," Castle admits. "We were thinking about sometime in late September or early October when it isn't too hot or too cold, and there isn't as much competition for wedding venues as there is in the spring or summer."

"And the crime rate falls after the summer until it picks up again in December, so things won't be as busy at the precinct," Kate adds.

"Sounds like you have it all figured out," Jim Beckett notes.

Castle grins. "Except for the exact location, the theme, the menu, the music, the flowers, and the guest list, we're right on top of everything."

"Darlings, you know I'll be happy to help all that I can," Martha inserts, "but I'll be off doing summer stock during the time when you'll be putting most of that together."

Castle steals a knowing side glance at Kate. "Mother, we hadn't thought of that, but we'll manage. I can always hire a wedding planner."

"That's true," Martha considers, "Just not that awful Vesper Wellspring. She did Margo Oldman's last wedding, and it was a disaster. It's no wonder that marriage only lasted three months."

"Mother, none of Margo's marriages has lasted more than a few months," Castle reminds Martha, "but Kate and I will keep that in mind. And now that we are all together around the table, Alexis informed me today that she's considering a major in pre-law, possibly concerning environmental issues. She's going to try to get an internship in Evan Gardner's office to get a feel for what it's like to go after the bad guys in the courtroom. Does anyone else have any news to share?"

"Actually, I do," Jim Beckett responds. "I'm expanding my offices so I can take on more cases. I'll be going after corporate offenders rather than the quarry of the N.Y.P.D., but if Alexis can't snag an internship with Gardner, I'd be more than happy to have her."

Kate lays a hand on her father's shoulder. "That's great, Dad. I'll let her know."

"I have news as well," Martha interjects. "Not only will I be doing summer stock, but I have accepted a role in the limited run of the new Tom Stoppard play."

Castle leans across the table to kiss her cheek. "Mother, that's marvelous! It looks like things are really looking up."

* * *

"Sara, are you ready to go to the lecture?" Alexis asks. "I'm super excited to hear it."

"I am too," Sara El-Masri agrees. "The condition of the ocean is so important to the health of the planet. I'm always looking for more that I can tell my father about helping his businesses keep the OPEC nations from making more of a mess than they already have. He's paranoid about saying anything that has to do with ecology. He's afraid the enemies he has will come after me."

"You know they could, Sara. My dad and his fiancée, Kate, have worked on cases where people were kidnapped and murdered over a lot less. My dad is always afraid something is going to happen to me too. He didn't even want me to have a vlog. He said once you put your information out there, you can never get it back. It pissed me off when he said it because he always seems to want to wrap me up like I'm a Fabergé egg or something. But he does have a point. There are bad guys out there, a lot of them. Kate's almost died more than once, and my dad almost drowned."

"Alexis, I can't live my life worrying about some kidnapper trying to grab me. There's so much freedom in the U.S., especially for women. I want to grab all of it that I can to make the life I want."

"I hear you about that," Alexis agrees. "This morning, I posted on my vlog about the lecture tonight. I'm hoping even more students will be interested in it. If we're going to save the planet, we need all the help we can get."

Sara nods. "You'll get no argument from me. We'd better go now if we want to get good seats. Subway or cab?"

"We should practice what we preach," Alexis declares. "Between electrically powered mass transit and the gas-powered internal combustion engine, there is only one green choice."

"Right," Sara concurs. "We take the subway."

A/N If you're celebrating Thanksgiving, have a great day!


	68. Chapter 68

Too Close

Chapter 68

"What have we got, Lanie?' Kate asks as she and Castle approach a crime scene.

"Hit and run — with a twist," The medical examiner replies. "He was knocked right out of his shoes, but it looks like his method for trying to stop the van witnesses saw coming at him was to shoot at it."

"Custom weapon, too," Esposito adds. "the grip wouldn't have fit anyone's hand but his."

"Some kind of terrorist or assassin?" Castle wonders.

"According to his ID, he's a student at Columbia," Ryan announces. "one Hakim Farouk."

Castle shudders. "What the hell is Columbia doing enrolling crazed gunmen? I need to talk to someone on the board. Can't have guys like this around my daughter."

"Take it easy, Babe," Kate counsels. "We don't know why Farouk was shooting at that van, and if the driver were an upright citizen, he wouldn't have taken off. Something is going on here besides a hit-and-run. But you're right; we do need to talk to someone at Columbia who knows about Farouk. Ryan, can you scrub the traffic cam footage in the area to see if you can spot that van?"

"On it," the slender detective responds.

"And Esposito, find out whatever you can about that weapon. If someone made it to order, there must be records somewhere."

"Right," Esposito agrees.

* * *

"Bram Stoker?" Kate calls after a red-headed man crossing the Columbia campus quad.

"Yeah, that's me," he replies, "and before you ask, he was a distant relative. My parents had a thing for paranormal literature, and they thought the name would be amusing. It isn't."

"Mr. Stoker, we're really not concerned about your name. I'm Kate Beckett. I'm a homicide detective. This is Mr. Castle."

"Sure, I recognize Richard Castle. Half the students in the section where I'm a T.A. would rather read his books than the decent literature I assign."

"It's your actions as a T.A. I wanted to discuss. You had a student, a Hasim Farouk, who complained that you were disrespectful to the females in your class."

"The school already checked that out; there was nothing to it. Some of the girls are turned on by the whole vampire connection. They flirt with me, and I smile back. That's as far as it goes, but I think Farouk might have been jealous. He never took his eyes off one of the girls, Sara El-Masri. But as far as I could tell, he never even spoke to her. He's a creeper."

"His creeping days are over," Castle remarks. "He's dead."

"Where were you at 8 o'clock last night, Mr. Stoker?" Kate inquires.

"In the graduate dorm, marking papers. You can check with my roommate, Lonny Naismith. He was watching the game. I had to use noise-canceling headphones so I could work."

"We'll do that," Kate assures him. "Anything else you can tell us about Farouk?"

"He wasn't a great student. I don't think he cared about the class, just Sara. He was lucky to pull a 'C.'"

"Castle, we need to check out Sara El-Masri," Kate muses as Stoker hurries off to make his next class.

* * *

The registrar's face brightens at mention of the El-Masri name. "Yes, Sara, an excellent student, and her parents support the school. Her father gave us a substantial gift to endow a chair in Middle Eastern studies. As I recall, she has a room in one of the campus houses that cater to vegans. I can look it up."

"Do you have a picture?" Kate asks. "It will make it easier to find her."

"It would be in the freshman directory. That's password protected to guard the privacy of our students, but I can print a copy of the photo for you."

The girl who opens the door of Sara's room at Kate's knock isn't Sara. "I'm Laura Tuckerman, and I'm relieved you're here. I was thinking about calling the police. Sara didn't come back to the room last night, and it's not like her. She's not a party girl. If she isn't studying, she's going to some lecture. She was supposed to go to one last night, with another girl. I don't know who. But Sara wouldn't have been out late."

"Do you know where the lecture was?" Kate asks.

Laura picks up a thick volume from one of the desks. "I don't know where, but Hayden Posner, who wrote this, was giving it."

"Oh, that book's supposed to be good," Castle comments. "Alexis gave me a copy on Earth Day, but I haven't read it yet."

Kate extends her card to Laura. "Thanks, we'll look into it, and if Sara shows up or you hear anything more about where she is, please text me or give me a call."

"I will," Laura promises.

Castle pulls out his phone as he and Kate leave Sara's room. "It shouldn't be hard to find out where that lecture was. There must have been something about it on social media. Bingo! Hayden Posner gave a talk, followed by a Q&A, at the Beaumont Hotel at 5 p.m. yesterday. If he got questions anything like I do at a book reading, he might not have wrapped up until around 7:30."

Kate's phone alerts her to an urgent text. "Ryan says there's something on the traffic cam video that we have to see."

* * *

Ryan points to an image of a white van on the big screen in Tech. "This has to be the van that hit Farouk. The whole front is dented in."

"Did you get a plate?" Kate asks.

"No, but there's something even more important. Look." Ryan runs the video of the van in reverse until images of a girl trying to escape and being dragged back inside appear."

Kate moves toward the screen. "Can you zoom in? Castle, isn't that Sara El-Masri?"

"It is," Rick confirms grimly. "No wonder she didn't make it back to her room last night. They must have grabbed her after she left the Beaumont."

"But where does Farouk come into it?" Kate wonders.

"The guy was a one-man commando unit," Esposito reports, from the doorway of the room. "I checked out his weapon. It wasn't the only one he bought — legally. He had a carry permit. He took gigs providing private security for Middle Eastern visitors. I got a look at his apartment, too. The rent was about ten times what I could afford, and the place was an arsenal. Someone was paying him, big time."

"The El-Masris have big money," Kate recalls, "and Stoker said Farouk never took his eyes off Sara. He wasn't a stalker; he was probably hired to protect her."

Castle's mouth is suddenly dry. "And he died trying to do it."

"This isn't only a homicide; it's a kidnapping with possible international implications," Kate realizes. "Gates is going to want to call in the FBI. And we need to talk to the El-Masris." She glances at Rick. "Are you all right, Castle?"

"I'm just imagining how the El Masris will feel when they find out their daughter's been kidnapped. They'll be terrified."

"You're the one who's white as a sheet. If you want, you can stay back while I talk to them, Babe," Kate offers.

"No," Castle declares, "I can handle it. And they might feel more comfortable talking to another parent."

"All right. We'll go as soon as I get an address and report to Gates." Kate reaches out to squeeze Rick's hand. "It's going to be all right. If the kidnappers had wanted to kill Sara, they would have done it when she tried to escape. They're probably after a ransom."

"If her parents are anything like me, they'll be willing to give everything they have to get their daughter back," Castle asserts, "including their blood."


	69. Chapter 69

Too Close

Chapter 69

Anwar El-Masri scrubs his hands over his face. "I tried to tell Sara that the world is a dangerous place. But the young, they don't listen."

Castle nods, as his stomach clenches.

"Anwar tried to get her to use a car service," Lina El-Masri adds. "But Sara wanted no part of it."

"She said, 'Papa, those big monsters belch carbon into the air. We need to save the earth.' So I hired Hakim Farouk," Anwar explains. "He was supposed to keep her safe."

"Mr. and Mrs. El-Masri, you should know that Hakim was trying to do just that up to his dying breath," Kate says softly. "Our medical examiner said that his death was instantaneous when the van carrying Sara hit him. Do you know of anyone with a strong motive to go after your daughter?"

"I have many enemies in Egypt," Anwar confesses. "That is why we chose to come to the United States and have Sara attend school here. I don't know which ones might have followed us."

"We'll coordinate with the FBI. They'll be looking into foreign-based bad actors, and helping in the search for Sara. My captain has been in touch with an Agent Harris," Kate continues. "He'll be contacting you to gather further information and let you know anything the FBI finds. I'll be doing the same for the N.Y.P.D. We'll all do everything we can to find your daughter."

"Mr. Castle," Lina confides, "I'm glad that you're involved in finding Sara. She told me that she and your daughter are friends. They're both members of the campus movement to save the environment. They attended events together. Sara said that your daughter believes that there isn't a mystery you can't solve."

Acid burns Castle's throat as he turns to Kate. "Laura Tuckerman said that Sara was going to the Posner lecture with a friend. And Alexis loves Posner's work. What if...?" Castle jerks his phone from the pocket of his jacket and waits anxiously through three rings before he hears a man's voice on the other end. "Who is this, and what are you doing with my daughter's phone?"

"This is Ted Archer at the Beaumont Hotel. Your daughter's phone is in our lost and found. A patron picked it up down the street and turned it in. We would have tried to call someone, but the phone was locked."

Castle struggles to catch his breath. "Oh, God, Kate! They must have grabbed Alexis too!"

"Calm down, Castle," Kate urges. "Call the dorm and see if Alexis is there. She and Sara might have gone in two different directions after leaving the Beaumont."

Castle swipes the back of his hand over his eyes, and his voice comes as a tortured rasp. "The RA checked Alexis' room. Her bed wasn't slept in, and no one has seen her since yesterday afternoon. The kidnappers have her. They have both girls."

* * *

Rick, Kate, and the El-Masris gaze up anxiously as Agent Harris leans over the table in the conference room at the 12th Precinct. "This is what we know so far," Harris recounts. "Both girls were dragged into a van that pulled up down the street from the Beaumont. It was caught on the security camera of an ATM at a bank nearby. That same van struck and killed Hakim Farouk when he tried to stop it. Farouk fired straight through the windshield, so there is a chance he wounded the driver, making it unlikely the van would go far. Additionally, the vehicle suffered a great deal of damage, which would make it highly noticeable.

"Any ID on the driver?" Castle asks.

"Not yet," Harris responds, "but cameras have captured his face from various angles. Our people are putting together a composite that we should be able to run through facial recognition. And all the local hospitals are on alert for anyone who shows up with a bullet wound. We've also picked up some international chatter from a group of radicals that were encouraging a strike against Mr. El-Masri. They may have enlisted locals to carry out the kidnapping."

"Then why would they take my daughter too?" Castle demands.

"Insurance, an extra bargaining chip, an additional ransom. It appears that she was a target of opportunity."

Rick's nails dig into his palms as his hands curl into fists. "So, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"We believe so, Mr. Castle," Agent Harris confirms. "As we speak, our agents are setting up monitoring at your home, Mr. and Mrs. El-Masri, and your home as well, Mr. Castle. We'll need you there to respond to any demands you receive from the kidnappers."

"Anything they ask, I will pay," El-Masri vows. "She is my only daughter."

The muscles pop in Castle's jaw. "They can have every cent I have. I just want Alexis back."

"Babe, do you want me to go to the loft with you?" Kate asks as Castle strides toward the elevator."

"I want you to, but I need you at the precinct to keep your finger on what's happening. And Mother's at the loft. I'll have to try to reassure her as best I can. Or maybe I want her to reassure me. She's always had more of a talent for optimism than I have. Anyway, you're my lifeline here."

"I'll let you know the second I hear anything."

Castle presses a kiss into Kate's palm. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

Esposito holds out a container of coffee to Kate. "Ryan and I have been knocking on every door and asking everyone we could find in the area where Alexis and Sara were taken if they saw something."

"Did you come up with anything?"

"A few people remembered seeing a banged up van. One said it was making grinding noises, like metal on metal. And another one thought she saw red spots on the windshield."

"Outside or inside?" Kate asks. "It could have been Farouk's blood."

"She didn't know, but there wasn't much blood on the body, Beckett," Esposito reminds her. "Lanie said Farouk died pretty much on impact. His heart wouldn't have been pumping. The spatters probably came from the driver."

"Right," Kate acknowledges. "Harris got an ID on him, Douglas Stevens. He's a local who did time as the getaway driver for a bank robbery. That's probably why the kidnappers hired him. They wanted someone who could gun it. So, he was shot, but as far as we know, he didn't go to a hospital. And we haven't found his body, so his accomplices didn't just dump him. Where would he go? Wait!" She grabs for a file on her desk. "His emergency contact, while he was in prison, was his sister, Darlene Stevens, R.N. He might have gone to her to get patched up. She works at Cedars-Sinai. I wonder if she showed up for work today, or she's playing nurse to her brother."

* * *

"Castle, we may have something," Kate reports excitedly. "We're going after the driver of the van."

"I want in, Kate," Castle insists. "If the kidnappers call the loft, I'll have it forwarded to my cell, and the FBI can monitor it. And Mother will be here to take care of things. Harris thinks that if the kidnappers want money, they'll most likely call El-Masri. He's probably right. I looked Anwar up. He could buy and sell me with his pocket change. And I need to go eye to eye with that sonofabitch driver."

"All right, Castle, but, in the shape you're in, I don't want you driving. You can ride with me."


	70. Chapter 70

Too Close

Chapter 70

"What happened?" Castle demands when Kate pulls her unit to the curb in front of his building. "The look on your face doesn't say 'we're going after the guy who can tell us where Alexis is.'"

"We're still going after Stevens, Babe," Kate assures him, "but we found the van. It was abandoned in a Handi-mart parking lot. The kidnappers probably stole another vehicle from there. So far, no reports of vehicles disappearing, but if it belonged to someone who uses spaces at a 24/7 store as long-term parking, the owner might not know it's gone."

"CSU can still sweep the van for evidence, right? But there's something else, isn't there? Tell me!"

There's a lot of blood in the van, Castle, and Lanie needs to know Alexis' blood type. She asked the El-Masris about Sara too.

"Oh, God, Kate! Does she think the girls died in there? Did my baby die in there?"

"Castle, the blood probably came from the driver. Lanie just wants to be sure."

"'A' positive, Alexis' blood type is 'A' positive."

"OK. I'm texting it right now."

Kate joins Rick as he paces the sidewalk. "Doing a field blood type test doesn't take long, Castle. Lanie should call in a few minutes."

"A few seconds is too long."

Kate reaches for his hand. "We'll wait together. I'm here for you."

Rick draws her close. "I know you are. And I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

Rocking back and forth, they hold each other until Kate's cell buzzes, and she thumbs the speaker. "It's not Alexis' or Sara's blood," Lanie announces, relief evident in her voice. "It matches what we have on record for Douglas Stevens. The man has a serious wound."

"Good!" Castle hisses, "as long as he doesn't die before he tells us where he was supposed to take the girls."

* * *

Darlene Stevens stands firmly in the doorway of her apartment. "You can't come in here."

Kate holds up a warrant. "This says we can. Now you can either move aside, or I'll have the officers move you."

Darlene grudgingly gives way as Kate pushes by, with Castle in her wake. Ryan and Esposito clear the rooms while two uniformed officers watch Darlene in the hall outside. "Got him!" Kate yells, throwing open the door of a bedroom. "Where are the girls, Douglas?"

Stevens pulls the covers up over his body. "I don't have to tell you anything. I'm demanding a lawyer, right now. And I need medical help. Call me when the ambulance gets here."

Castle puts a hand on Kate's arm. "I'd like a moment alone with him."

Kate silently nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

"I asked for a lawyer. You cops can't question me," Stevens claims.

Castle stares down at the man shrinking against the bed board. "I'm not a cop."

"Then, who are you?"

"I'm the father of one of the girls you kidnapped, Alexis, the one with the red hair. Please know that I will do whatever it takes to get her back. The police outside are my friends. They're her friends too. So, it's just you and me."

"If you touch me, I'll press charges," Stevens threatens.

Castle's hands curl into fists as his eyes darken. "I don't care."

Outside the door, Kate can hear a scream and whimpers. She knows that Ryan and Esposito can hear them too. They exchange glances in silent agreement.

"He can have his ambulance now," Castle mutters, leaving the bedroom. "I have the address where the kidnappers were taking the girls. They're on a farm upstate."

* * *

Agent Harris points at the cameras at the entrance as he leads the strike force on the farm. "We'll have to jam those, or they'll know we're coming."

"I can send out a signal," Riley Kaye, his tech expert, replies, "but it will take a few minutes."

"Hurry," Harris urges. "God only knows what they're doing to those girls."

Riley tunes a piece of equipment. "Got it! There's a storm coming in, with any luck, they'll think the static is interference."

"Everyone move in now," Harris commands. The FBI surrounds the main house and the outbuildings, weapons drawn. "No one's spotted any guards, but stay sharp."

Bursting through the door of the main house, the agents fan out. "Harris, you need to see this," Agent Sylvie Morris calls. Sylvie motions Harris toward a body in a chair. "No sign of the girls, but he has a bullet hole in his forehead."

"His fingernails have been pulled out, and it looks like some of his teeth as well," Harris notes. "He was tortured and killed, but why?"

"Maybe he was one of the perpetrators and felt guilty and wanted to turn," Sylvie suggests.

Harris shakes his head. "This looks more like someone was after information. And that gunshot was recent. You can still smell the powder in the air. Run a full canvass of the area and see if anyone saw someone leaving the area just before we arrived."

"I found these in one of the bedrooms," Agent Porter reports, holding up two women's coats. "Do you think they belonged to the victims?"

"Detective Beckett is waiting on the perimeter with one of the fathers," Harris responds. "He may be able to tell us."

"This is Alexis' coat," Castle confirms. "I saw her wearing it when she came home to do her laundry last week."

"The other one probably belongs to Sara, " Harris assumes, "but we'll check with the El-Masris." He glances down as a text appears on his phone. "We have an ID on the body. His name is Roger Henson, a small-time drug dealer. Whoever is behind this probably hired him for the job, like they did Stevens."

"Then why would someone torture and kill him?" Castle demands. "That makes no sense."

"I don't know," Harris admits. "But he's another connection to the kidnappers. We'll follow the lead and see where it goes."

Castle slams his fist into his palm. "We're still no closer to finding the girls. All Douglas Stevens knew was the address of this place."

"Hey, Castle," Kate soothes. "The kidnappers have to have left something behind besides the coats and Henson's body. The feed from the cameras must go somewhere. The FBI can track it down. And they'll analyze the trace evidence too."

"All of which his going to take time. And Kate, you know the statistics better than I do. Once we get past the first 24 hours, the chances of finding Alexis and Sara alive get pretty slim."

* * *

The tall, white-haired man systematically views the contents of Roger Henson's hard drive. It had been wiped, but he has the tools to recover the images, much as it twists his gut to see them. The photos are far from high quality, but the subject is clear enough — Alexis. He's taken pictures of her himself, practically since she was born, whenever he could make it to the states. The last ones were when she gave the valedictory speech at her graduation. He stood in the back of the auditorium just long enough to hear it. She clearly inherited Richard's talent with words. Even if he had nothing to do with it, Jackson can't help being proud of the woman his granddaughter has become. He will find her — and the sons of bitches who took her will pay, just as Henson already has.


	71. Chapter 71

Too Close

Chapter 71

"Are those the results from the canvass around the farm?" Castle asks as Kate studies an email on her computer in the bullpen.

"They are. There's a sketch of a man who was seen leaving right before the FBI raid. I'm downloading it to put on the board, but I don't think he was with the girls. A few hours earlier, the neighbors noticed an ambulance coming and going. When it left, there were two vehicles with it, including one that was finally reported stolen from the Handi-mart. The FBI is tracing it through cameras on the freeway and satellite surveillance."

"Why would the kidnappers need an ambulance - unless - God, what did they do to the girls?"

"They probably drugged them, Babe. They would have been a lot easier to handle that way, and an ambulance would have made for perfect transportation."

"Transportation to where?"

"Agent Harris will let us know as soon as the FBI figures that out. But right now, you should try to get some rest. You look like you're about to fall over. Let me take you back to the loft."

"How can I sleep, Kate? Every time I close my eyes, I see…"

"You can try. When we do find out where the ambulance was going, we need to be ready to take the next step. I'll be right beside you, and I promise I'll wake you the second we have any information."

* * *

Determined to hold herself together, Sara pushes back a stray lock of hair and pins it in place. "Wait!" Alexis exclaims "is that a bobby pin?"

Sara cocks her head at her fellow prisoner. "Yes. We can't do much locked up like this, but at least I can keep my hair out of my face."

Alexis springs to her feet from her mattress on the floor. "Bobby pins can do a lot more than hold back your hair. When I was 10, my father was working with a master thief named Powell to learn how to open safes, pick locks - all the things Powell did to steal priceless jewels. Dad was doing it for a book, but I was learning too. Dad even bought a door so that we could practice on together." She points to a door at the rear of the room. "It wasn't a lot different from that one. I can use your pin to pick the lock, and we can get out of here."

"Alexis," Sara protests, "the men who grabbed us have guns. And once we were taken here, wherever here is, I heard someone speaking Arabic. He was talking about making the father pay. Papa is crazy rich. He'll give them whatever they want. We just have to wait."

"Didn't you tell me that you left Egypt because radicals were gunning for your family there?" Alexis demands.

Sara sinks down on her mattress. "Yes, they blame my father for getting the current government in power. But what does that have to do with waiting for him to pay a ransom?"

"Did the man you heard just say pay, or pay the money?"

"Just pay."

"So if the men who kidnapped us are looking for revenge against your father, they could kill us as soon as he pays the ransom, maybe before. We have to get out of here. So give me your bobby pin while we still have a chance to get away."

Sara pulls the pin from her hair. "All right, Alexis, but it's been a long time since you were 10. I hope you still remember what you learned."

Alexis crosses her fingers behind her back while she reassures her friend. "It's like riding a bike. You never forget."

* * *

Ryan leans on a corner of Esposito's desk. "What are you doing?"

"The feds were too slow in tracing that ambulance, so I got on it. I figured if the kidnappers are hooked up with Anwar El-Masri's enemies in Egypt, they might be trying to get the girls out of the country. They'd need a private airport, an international one. So I checked with a buddy of mine at Teterboro. He said that a plane belonging to a Russian oligarch was stolen out of a repair facility, right after it was certified airworthy. It took off without filing a flight plan, but it was fully fueled for a long trip. So I'm checking destinations in its range and within the time frame."

Ryan whistles. "That's got to be a lot of places. Need an extra pair of eyes?"

"From the man whose alter-ego Castle hypes as the king of computer searches, I'll take all the help I can get. But weren't you scrubbing video from the Handi-mart to the farmhouse?"

"I didn't find anything we didn't already know. At least you've uncovered a fresh trail."

* * *

Sara pulls another pin from her hair. "Alexis, this is the last one. You have to make it work."

"I almost had it last time," Alexis insists. "I'll get it. See, the bent part is the torque wrench, and the straight part is the pick. Look! It's turning!"

"You did it!" Sara presses her hand to her mouth. "But Alexis, I don't think I can do this. I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"You are not going to be sick!" Alexis commands. "We'll go through this door just the way we planned. You run one way, I'll run the other. At least one of us will have a chance of getting out of here and getting help. Ready?"

"No," Sara admits, "but let's do it."

* * *

Ryan shakes his head at his computer screen. "I think I might have found where the plane landed, but I'm not sure it's going to be much help."

"Why, Bro?"

"Because it came into Brussels International Airport, designated as an angel flight. Two unconscious young women were met by an ambulance, supposedly to transport them for organ transplants, but from there, it's a dead end. They could have been taken anywhere. I'm thinking the kidnappers would have stayed in the European Union. Fewer questions at borders. But that's a hell of a lot of territory."

"You gonna call Beckett and give her the news?" Esposito asks.

"What for?" Ryan wonders. "She took Castle home. Maybe he's getting some rest. If anything, we're further from finding Alexis and Sara than we were before. We should let the man grab a few minutes of peace while he can."

* * *

Panting, Alexis runs through the hall of a nondescript building, noticing that all the signs are in French. Could she be in Quebec? She tries each door until she finds an open office. The windows are covered, but there's a faint scent of food floating through the air. She seizes a cellphone from a desk. The charge is in the red, but it's not dead yet. Damn! 911 won't go through, but there's a Skype application. She can reach Dad. He'll come to get her. He always has.

Castle's on the ragged edge of sleep when he hears the Skype alert from his cellphone. Kate sits up next to him as an FBI agent knocks on the bedroom door. "Mr. Castle, were you expecting a call?"

"No," Castle responds, "are you monitoring?"

"All set," the agent confirms. "Accept the Skype."

The breath flies out of Castle's lungs at the face on the screen. "Alexis! Baby, are you all right? Where are you?"

Alexis clings to the phone, her eyes glued to her father's face. "I don't know, somewhere they speak French, but I can't see out, and this phone is dying."

"Baby," Castle urges, "Get out of there. Get out of there now."

Alexis drops the phone on the floor and sprints away. The exits are locked, but the staircase up to the roof is open. Maybe she can signal for help. She runs to the edge and stares into the distance. The Eiffel Tower! She can't stop screaming as two men drag her back into the building.

Castle numbly hands over his phone to the FBI agent as the image of a scarred ceiling tile fades from the screen.

"Where is she?" Kate demands of the agent running the trace.

He stares at his equipment. "According to this, the call came from Paris, France."

Silently, Kate wraps her arms around Rick.


	72. Chapter 72

Too Close

Chapter 72

Castle draws a calming breath. "Can you get a location more exact than Paris? GPS should be able to give us an address or something."

"Normally, yes," the tech confirms, "but the phone that call came from either didn't have it, or the function was disabled. We have the location of the nearest tower, but you're still talking about an area of 30 square kilometers."

"But the gendarmes can search for the girls, right?" Castle presses.

"I'll contact Agent Harris, and he can liaise with the French authorities, Mr. Castle. I'll call him right now."

* * *

"What do you hear?" Jackson demands.

"Volkov's got them," CIA Agent Tran responds. "He's set up in Paris with a bunch of mercenaries in one of those old mansions that's practically a fortress. I'll send you the coordinates. But getting in there won't be easy, and the director wants the company to look hands off on this one. The FBI is involved."

"Yeah, right," Jackson grunts. "By the time they finish pushing paper, Volkov could get whatever money he wants and kill both girls. I'll find a way."

"You usually do," Tran notes. "Godspeed, Jackson."

"I don't think God had much to do with this, or he would have sent Volkov to hell years ago. I'll need transport, the fastest I can get."

"You can pick it up on the base at Atlantic City International. But use your military legend. We need to keep the director's hands clean."

Jackson snorts. "Some things never change."

* * *

"How long before the French Authorities launch a search for the girls?" Castle demands as he and Kate meet with Agent Harris at the 12th.

"There are some diplomatic complications because of the possible Middle Eastern connections," Harris explains. "We have to run it through the Embassy. It should be straightened out in a day, maybe two."

"A day, maybe two?" Castle repeats angrily. "The girls could be moved again — or dead."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castle, but…" Harris' cellphone buzzes. "The El-Masris just received a ransom demand. They're on their way in now."

* * *

"We can get one of our agents in Europe to make the exchange," Harris suggests.

"No!" Anwar insists, banging his palms against the conference room table. "Lina's sister lives in Paris. Her husband Ahmed will do it. I've already sent authorization for the transfer and release of funds through a Paris Bank."

"What about Alexis?" Castle asks. "Did the kidnappers say anything about releasing Alexis?"

"Anwar made them promise to release both girls," Lina assures Rick.

Castle's throat tightens as he turns to Anwar. "If I owe you anything…"

"You owe me nothing," Anwar interjects. "Let us just hope these men are honorable."

* * *

The chairs for the El-Masris, Castle, Kate, Harris, and Gates barely fit into tech as they watch the screen. "We got the French to agree to a tie-in with the street cameras," Harris explains. "We won't have a full view of everything, but we should be able to see when the girls are released."

"That's Ahmed!" Anwar exclaims, as a small car pulls into view. A slim man carrying a large duffel bag exits the vehicle. The tip of a gun muzzle is visible as Ahmed falls to his knees, and a hand snatches the bag.

The view switches to another camera as Ahmed runs under a bridge, emerging with his arm around Sara. As Ahmed helps her into his car and drives off, Castle springs from his seat. "Where's Alexis?"

Kate closes her eyes as her stomach roils. As Rick rushes out of the room, she follows. "Babe, where are you going?"

"To get my daughter back."

Kate grabs his arm. "**We're** going to get your daughter back."

* * *

Castle paces the narrow aisle in a chartered plane. "This jet is the fastest I could get, but the flight is still going to take at least six hours. I wish I could have gotten one of those military supersonics, but my contact in the CIA said they couldn't help. Not exactly a show of gratitude for us helping them save Western civilization as we know it."

"It will be all right, Babe. The kidnappers gave back Sara safe and sound, and she said she and Alexis were separated. They may just be planning another exchange."

Castle shakes his head. "I don't know what I could give them that El-Masri couldn't. Something's off, Kate."

The co-pilot opens the door of the cockpit and hands Castle a satellite phone. "There's a call for the two of you, a Detective Ryan."

Castle thumbs the speaker icon. "What have you got, Ryan?"

"Javi thought it might be worth it to reach out to Demming in robbery to see if he knew anything about Henson."

"Kevin, I don't care who Espo talked to as long as he got something to help us find Alexis."

"Demming said that Henson had a girlfriend and that sometimes he crashed at her place. When we went there, I checked the computer. I couldn't access the files, but Wong in Tech was able to pull up some of them. There were pictures of Alexis."

"Just Alexis, not Sara?" Kate queries.

"Just Alexis," Ryan confirms.

Castle grabs the back of a seat to steady himself. "Alexis was the target. She was the target all along. What the hell do those bastards want with my daughter?"

Kate reaches out to take his hand. "Babe, we're going to find out."

* * *

Gaston looks up as Rick and Kate enter a Paris café. "Richard, it has been a long time. This must be Detective Beckett."

Kate extends her hand. "Kate, please."

"Kate," Gaston repeats. "Sit — both of you. Richard, I've been making inquiries since you called. There is some kind of diplomatic lid on this whole matter, but I was able to determine that the local authorities don't know where your daughter is. What's more, they are not hurrying to find out."

Rick drums his fingers on the table. "Gaston, you once told me of an alternative, a man the official channels use when they want to keep their hands clean."

"Richard, that was in confidence when I was consulting on your books."

"Anything you can say to me, Kate can hear," Rick assures his friend.

"The man that you are speaking of, Jacque Henri, is not someone you would ever want to know," Gaston advises. "He will do anything for a price."

"Whatever it is, I'll pay it," Castle swears. "Can you put me in touch?"

Gaston shrugs. "I can try. Don't get far from your phone. I will contact you."

"_Merci_, Gaston," Kate responds.

"Don't thank me yet; you two may be going down a very dangerous path. Kate, I hope you are as astute as the version of you Richard portrays in his books."

"I hope so too," Kate murmurs. "You want to go check into the hotel, while we're waiting to hear from Gaston?" she asks Rick.

"No need. I had our luggage, such as it is, sent ahead, and it's a guaranteed reservation. I just want to walk."

* * *

Jackson studies the layout of Volkov's headquarters. He can do his reconnaissance using infrared to locate the warm bodies inside, but getting in and getting to wherever they're holding Alexis, could require some help. Getting out could require even more. For now, he can keep watching. He cloned and tracked Richard's phone. The writer's in Paris. Hopefully, he picked up some tradecraft during the time he was shadowing and whatever else he was doing with Sophia Turner. And Kate Beckett has skills. Between them, they should be able to pull off the mission.


	73. Chapter 73

Too Close

Chapter 73

"What the hell are they doing with Jacque Henri?" Jackson mutters, watching Rick and Kate through a scope as they enter an old church. "The man's a snake." Jackson will have to keep an eye on this situation as well as on Volkov. As far as he can determine, Alexis will remain alive until Volkov can drain Richard and pull him into his web. Henri might play some part in that, and Jackson needs to stay at arms' length until he can approach Richard and Kate without Henri being aware.

Rick grasps Kate's hand as they take a seat in the front pew. Moments drag by until they hear a whisper behind them. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, but sometimes he needs a little help, _oui_?"

Castle twists to see the slim, bearded man a pew back. "Can you find my daughter?"

"I can find her," Henri claims, "but I can't guarantee I can find her alive."

Castle swallows. "I understand. You're hired."

"Not so fast," Henri cautions. "There is the matter of payment." He passes Castle a slip of paper with an amount in euros and a long number written on it. "Half now, transferred immediately to that account, half when I find her."

Castle pulls his phone from the inside pocket of his coat. "Agreed." He brings up a website and thumbs the virtual keyboard. "Done."

Henri retrieves his cell from the pocket of his jeans. "Confirmed. Now, I understand there is a recording of a call you received from your daughter."

"Yes, I have a file on my phone, but it doesn't contain any clues to her location," Castle protests.

"And who told you that?" Henri queries.

"The FBI," Castle replies.

"And the technicians at the New York police department," Kate adds.

"Then you should thank God that I'm not the FBI and you are in Paris, not New York. Come with me," Henri instructs.

"Where are we going?" Kate demands.

"The catacombs," Henri answers. "There is a hidden entrance from this church. The man who can help us find _Monsieur_ Castle's daughter is waiting below us."

Henri pushes a spot in a stone wall, and a circle of stone grinds inward. As soon as he, Castle, and Kate are the opening, he presses another spot on the other side to seal it. "This way," he beckons, pointing to steep stairs cut into the rock.

After a few moments descent, Castle spies a small man wearing dark glasses in the already dim light. "That is the Mole," Henri explains.

"_Ils sont nerveux_," Mole notes.

"We're not nervous," Kate protests. "We just need to find my fiancé's daughter."

"Take no offense," Henri counsels. "Mole can hear the rapid beating of your hearts. He detects and interprets sounds that law-enforcement technicians ignore. Give him the recording, _Monsieur_ Castle, he will locate the building from which it was made."

Castle glances at Kate, who nods. He hands Mole his phone.

"It will only take him a moment to copy and enhance your file," Henri assures Castle, ushering the couple to follow Mole into an equipment-filled cavern carved out of the rock." Henri gestures toward an antique couch. "Get as comfortable as you can. Mole's analysis may take a while."

"There is hot water for tea," Mole adds, "and croissant. It is sent to me from the best bakery in Paris every morning."

Castle gazes around. "I feel like I'm in an episode of Beauty and the Beast — the one with Ron Perlman. He played a leonine member of a group of underground dwellers with helpers up above."

Henri shakes his head. "This is no fantasy, _Monsieur_ Castle. The Mole's skills are very real, as you will see, and there are others, alive and dead, in the catacombs. But the croissant is excellent, as is the tea. It will give you strength while you wait."

* * *

Castle is trying to convince his stomach to hold on to his tea and a bite of croissant when Mole calls out. "There! Hear that? It is the type of commercial ventilating system they install in restaurants. _Monsieur_ Castle, your daughter made her call from above one."

"In the 30 square kilometers around where the call was placed, there must be dozens of restaurants, maybe more," Castle protests.

"_Vrai_," Mole acknowledges, "but there is more. Hear this?"

"Chimes," Kate responds.

"_Oui_," Mole confirms. "They are from the Convent of Mercy. From the volume, they are two-tenths of a kilometer distant from where the recording was made. We look for restaurants with offices above them within that radius."

The offices had a hung ceiling that looked old," Castle adds.

Henri's eyebrows rise. "That may be helpful, _Monsieur_ Castle."

"Indeed," Mole agrees. "We take into account the age of the offices. Henri, I have the coordinates. Show them on the map."

Henri points to a spot on a huge map of Paris, covering the surface of a low table. It is here. This is the location from which your daughter made her call."

"Let's go!" Castle exclaims.

"We will, _Monsieur_ Castle, but we need the proper tools. We don't know what or who may be waiting for us."

"Shouldn't we notify the local authorities?" Kate wonders.

Henri shakes his head. "The captors may be monitoring police communication. Believe me; it is not difficult. The element of surprise is a powerful weapon. We need it on our side."

* * *

Henri pushes a fiber-optic camera beneath the door leading from a staircase to the offices above the _Hibou affamé. _"I see no one." He presses a microphone to the floor. "No movement." After quickly picking the lock, he takes his gun from the small of his back and pushes through the door, clearing each room.

Castle rubs his hands over his face. "She's not here!"

"Nothing's here," Kate observes. "There are no papers on the desks, no electronics, and it looks like everything's been scrubbed or wiped clean."

"This is tradecraft," Henri notes grimly. "Spies?" Castle questions.

"Or operatives with intelligence training," Henri replies.

"What the hell would spies want with my daughter?" Castle demands.

Henri presses a finger to his lips. He points to a bulge in the wallpaper and makes a slit with his knife to reveal a microphone. "Let's find out. We know you are listening. By now, you have run voice recognition and know who I am. You know my reputation. I am not interested in your agenda or turning you over to the police. I only want the girl."

After what seems like an eternity to Castle, a landline rings on a nearby desk. Henri picks it up and listens to the instructions from the other end. "_Oui, sans le pére_."

"S_ans le pére,"_ Castle echoes angrily. "Even I can translate that. Without the father. I need to talk to them. I need to see my daughter."

"_Monsieur Castle_," Henri urges, "you must allow me to handle this. You are emotionally involved; both of you are. That makes you dangerous to them, like a wounded animal. Let me negotiate your daughter's release. It is what I do. And I promise that I will make sure the kidnappers provide proof of life."

Kate looks up at Rick. "There's no choice, Babe."

"Fine, do it." Castle agrees.

"First, I will need to know how much you can afford," Henri advises. "You will have to pay in cash, and quickly."

Castle reaches for his phone. "I'll contact my bank to make arrangements."


	74. Chapter 74

Too Close

Chapter 74

"We should go to the hotel," Kate suggests as they leave the deserted offices. "There isn't any more we can do until we hear from Henri. We could get some rest and something to eat. You didn't have much while the Mole was working."

"I don't think I could now either," Castle admits, "but the hotel is as good a place as any. If I'm going to wear a hole in the carpet, it might as well be a high-class rug. And the concierge should be able to put us in direct contact with a top-level banking officer. I'll need to be ready to come up with whatever the kidnappers ask."

"You gave Henri a lot of latitude on the ransom, Babe."

"I would have given him more if I thought I had time to liquidate my property. Alexis is priceless to me, as would you be. But I may have to start writing a lot more books."

"Just as long as you don't decide that you need another muse."

"No, I've found the one that will do me for life. I know the hotel is a couple of kilometers from here, but after the Mole's subterranean lair, I can use the air of a walk."

"Me too," Kate agrees, as Rick offers his elbow. "The circumstances bite, but I've always wanted to stroll through Paris on the arm of my lover. Maybe the city will share some of its magic with Alexis."

"God, I pray that it does."

* * *

Jackson observes as Henri and Volkov firmly grasp arms before Henri leaves Volkov's mansion with an 8 X 10 photo and a satisfied expression. Jackson uses a high-powered lens to zoom in on the picture. It's Alexis, holding a newspaper with a current headline. At least she's still alive, but now that Richard is in Paris, Volkov may be seeking other prey. Is his son worth more to the Russian than his granddaughter? Even if they're unaware of it, the two of them are the only family Jackson has.

Wishing he had a twin, or at least an operative he could leave watching Volkov, Jackson decides to follow Henri. He has a sick feeling that the French mercenary is about to pull Richard, and probably Kate Beckett as well, into Volkov's web. He needs to be close enough to cut them free.

* * *

"Your daughter is holding today's Le Monde," Henri points out as he hands Castle the photograph of Alexis. "She is alive. I've arranged a meeting at sunrise in the _Forêt Fontainebleau_. That will give you time to get the money together. The kidnappers want 3 million euros."

"I'm prepared to give it to them. But I want to see Alexis before I hand it over."

"You will," Henri assures Castle. "They will be bringing her with them. I will take you to the meet. You have only to make the exchange."

* * *

"I don't know how I'm going to get through the night," Castle confesses after he and Kate return from a Paris bank with an attaché case full of euros. Even with intervention from Castle's financial institution in New York and the concierge's contact, Rick had to fill out page after page of paperwork. But at least he was doing something. Now all he can do is wait.

Kate rubs her hand against the tight muscles in Rick's back. "We could talk about the future, one where Alexis is safely back in New York and cheering on our wedding preparations. We have our roof venue, but we haven't settled much else about the ceremony or the reception. We need to select colors and flowers and music. We haven't even picked a song for our first dance."

"That's right," Castle realizes. "We don't really have a song. We've never gone anywhere just to go dancing. I know you love Sinatra, but somehow I can't see 'I Did It My Way,' at a wedding unless you turn into a bridezilla. 'Saying Something Stupid' wouldn't work too well, either. The Chairman of the Board wasn't exactly blessed with marital success."

Kate nibbles her lip. "You have a point. We need something about being inseparable, part of each other."

"That's true. Back in our early days, you couldn't get rid of me even when you tried."

"I didn't try that hard," Kate confesses. "You got under my skin pretty fast. Ooh! 'I've Got You Under My Skin,' is a Sinatra song."

"Or we could go for what lies beneath — 'In My Veins,' by Andrew Belle,'" Castle suggests. "It's more contemporary and might be better for a slow dance. And I want my first dance with you as your husband to be very slow."

"Yeah, me too. We can have 'In My Veins,' for our first dance, and then have the DJ do Sinatra later," Kate decides. "That might even get my dad on the dancefloor."

"He can always cut a rug with Mother. She does love Old Blue Eyes. So we've got that settled, but we still have to make it through about another 12 hours. What's next?"

"I figure that before we pick flowers, we have to decide on colors," Kate offers. "I like purple."

"I've noticed. The painting you bought for your replacement apartment is intriguing."

"I saw it at a flea market and fell in love with it," Kate confides, "but the shade the artist used is a little dark for a wedding. I was thinking lavender for Lanie's dress. She'd look beautiful. We could have lavender linens, too, but darker purple flowers for the bouquets and the arches. We could let the florist pick what will work best."

Castle nods approvingly. "Good passing off of responsibility. I like it."

Kate sticks the tip of her finger in her mouth. "We need to figure out what to do about invitations, but we have to work on the guest list first."

"That should take the rest of the night," Castle remarks. "I don't have to worry about family, but I have the whole publishing circle."

"And we have everyone at the 12th," Kate adds, "and Aunt Theresa's side of my family."

Castle grimaces. "I have a sudden urge to try to rest for a while. If you join me, we could at least get in a cuddle while we consider how to accommodate the hordes of merrymakers."

Kate grabs Rick's hand to lead him toward the bed. "Good idea."

* * *

It's dark, and Kate is spooned against his body when Castle checks the luminous dial of his watch. There's no point in trying to fall back asleep, and he doesn't care to revisit the images that swam before his eyes during his fitful slumber. He can start the in-room coffee maker. Both he and Kate can use the caffeine. A shower wouldn't be bad either, to make him as wide-awake as possible when he enters the lions' den. As terrified as he is, he imagines it must be ten times worse for Alexis. Maybe the kidnappers were kind enough to tell her that she is about to be released. He hopes so, but he won't believe it himself until he has his arms around his daughter again.

* * *

Jackson follows at a distance behind the black SUV carrying Volkov's men. Alexis isn't with them. Jackson didn't expect she would be. Whatever deal Volkov and Henri cooked up is not intended to result in the girl's freedom. Jackson's eyes flick to the rifle in the seat beside him. Whatever they planned, won't work out the way they expected.


	75. Chapter 75

Too Close

Chapter 75

The hair on the back of Kate's neck stands up as she gazes into the dimness of the forest. She can barely make out the SUV in the shadow of the tree canopy. Two men holding AK-12 rifles exit the vehicle. "Something's off."

Castle stares into the gloom. "I don't see Alexis." He looks back at Henri, who is urging him forward. "Where's my daughter?"

"You'll see her when they are sure you have the money," Henri asserts. "Just keep going."

Holding the attaché case, Castle moves forward as Kate keeps pace. His eyes strain for a glimpse of red hair. "No, this isn't right."

Henri cocks his gun and points it at Rick and Kate's backs. "Keep going." He calls to the men, now pointing their weapons as well. "I have them, as promised."

"You're betraying us?" Castle exclaims. "Why?"

"I had no idea who you are, who your daughter is," Henri claims. "If I had, I wouldn't have taken the job."

The waiting thugs force Rick and Kate to their knees. "I don't understand. I'm just a writer. My daughter is a student. This has to be some huge mistake."

"No mistake," Henri assures him while catching the gaze of one of the thugs. "_Mon payment_."

The thug nods. Henri grabs the case from Castle's hand and begins to walk away as the thugs aim their rifles at Rick and Kate's heads. Rick lunges to try to shield Kate as shots echo through the forest, leaving the thugs and Henri dead on the ground.

Castle slowly looks up and then down again at Kate. "What the hell just happened?"

Kate pushes to her feet. "I don't know, but we'd better get out of here before any other shooters arrive."

"Come, get in the car," A tall man in a baseball cap yells, indicating a vehicle behind one Henri had driven. "I'll get you somewhere safe."

"We're not going anywhere with some stranger who appeared out of nowhere," Castle protests. "Who are you?"

"Obviously one of the good guys," Jackson points out, "or neither one of you would be going anywhere again. Look, these men have friends, very nasty ones. If they don't get a mission completed signal, they'll come looking. And for God's sake, take the batteries out of your phones. They can track you."

Kate pulls her phone from her pocket and takes it apart. "He's right, Castle. You should do yours too. This guy did just save our asses. And he was in this in New York. I recognize him from the sketch of the man who was seen around the farmhouse after the kidnappers left."

"Good catch," Jackson acknowledges. "I got there ahead of the FBI but too late to do anything but question Henson. But we can play 20 questions later. We could have unwelcome company any minute."

"All right," Castle grudgingly agrees, getting out his own phone. He looks up at their rescuer. "But if Kate and I are going with you, at least tell me your name."

"You can call me Hunt, Jackson Hunt."

"Sounds made up," Castle opines.

"It is," Jackson admits with a ghost of a smile. "And before we go, you should retrieve your money. You never know when you'll need it."

Shuddering slightly, Castle uncurls Henri's dead fingers from the handle of his case and opens the door for Kate to climb into the backseat of Hunt's car.

* * *

Hunt leads the way to an attic room above a building in an older section of Paris and quickly scans for bugs. "We'll be fine here for now."

Castle's eyes widen at pictures of Alexis on the wall. "Where did you get those?"

"We need some answers now," Kate demands.

A phone buzzes from a low bookcase as Hunt begins to open his mouth. He nods at Rick. "You should answer it. It's yours."

"How could it be mine?" Castle asks. "Sans battery, mine is still in my pocket."

"It's a clone," Hunt explains, "but secure. You should get it. It could be your friends from New York checking to make sure you and Detective Beckett are all right."

"No, it's a local number," Castle notices, hope exploding in his chest as he picks up the phone. "Alexis?"

"No, Mr. Castle," a Russian accented voice replies, "but I have her. Give the phone to the man responsible for the carnage in the woods, who is no doubt nearby."

Castle hands the cell to Hunt. "He wants to talk to you."

"Yeah," Hunt responds.

"The time for sparring is over," Volkov announces to Hunt. "You have 24 hours to surrender yourself at the address I will give you, or the girl dies, and her father will shortly follow her to hell."

"I understand," Hunt replies tersely, before the call ends, followed by a texted address he recognizes as Volkov's opulent headquarters.

Anger flashes in Castle's eyes. "This is about you, isn't it? Why did that Russian take my daughter? What do you have to do with her? What do you have to do with me?"

"That Russian's name is Volkov, he was with the KGB in the old Soviet Union and became a member of the SVR under the new regime. The last time we crossed paths was when he was trying to prevent Chechnya from maintaining its independence. He and his wife Anna were on the mission together. I had to kill her, or she would have taken out half a square mile of a Chechnyan city. I left Volkov in a Chechnyan prison, but he escaped, and he's been wanting to get revenge on me ever since."

"You're still making no sense! If Volkov wants you, why come after my daughter, and why take Sara El-Masri?"

"Volkov shouldn't have known that I cared about anyone in the states. Somehow, I must have gotten careless. He took the El-Masri girl because he knew it would attract international attention, and I'd come for Alexis."

"Why would you come for her? Why did you care? Are you some insane stalker? What's she to you?"

Hunt pounds his fist into his palm. "She's my granddaughter! Richard, I'm your father."

Castle studies Hunt's face, noting a slight similarity to his own, around the eyes. "You're my father. That explains somethings Sophia Turner said. My dad's a spy."

"Intelligence asset is the term," Hunt corrects, "but yes."

"Does my mother know?"

Hunt shakes his head. "Uh-uh. It couldn't be any other way. Operatives like me aren't supposed to have any ties or relationships. I never intended to get as close to Martha as I did. The Italians would call what happened a thunderbolt. I couldn't stay away from her. I had just finished up a job at the United Nations the night we were together. I thought I'd have a chance to be around for a while. But by morning, I learned that things had gone south. I had to get out of the country fast and wasn't stateside again for another year. That's when I found out about you. What did Martha tell you about me?"

"Not much," Castle confides. "She said it was a magical night and that you two were in love. She had no idea why you left or where you went, and she never saw you again."

"I made sure she didn't. You were all safer that way, until now. But I was around. I met you at the library when you were ten. You were looking for a book. I gave you a copy of ..."

"_Casino Royale_. Your hair was dark then, but I remember you now. That book started me writing spy stories."

"I had no right to be, but I was very proud when I read your first novel. And I greased the wheels when you wanted to get into the CIA. For a moment I felt like a father."

"I guess you're acting like one now. Are you going to turn yourself over to Volkov?" Castle asks.

"If I do, he'll kill Alexis anyway, as slowly and painfully as possible. He just wants to make me watch before he kills me too. But I'll need help from both of you to get her away from him."

Castle glances at Kate, who nods and squeezes his hand. "Just tell us what you need us to do."


	76. Chapter 76

Too Close

Chapter 76

Hunt points to a building plan laid out on a table. "This is Volkov's base. As far as I have been able to image, Alexis is in a cage in the center of what was once a ballroom. I've detected at least a dozen men inside, most concentrated in that room. That may be reduced by the four I killed today. There are also guards in the front at the gate. We'd need a small army to take the place by force, and the same diplomatic roadblocks that have slowed down official cooperation with American authorities will keep us from getting one. So we're going to have to take a lesson from the Greeks."

"What do you mean?" Castle queries.

"A Trojan horse. That will be you, Richard. We can't force our way inside, but we can have you taken in. See this tunnel? There's a conduit inside that is the weak point in Volkov's fortifications, but he's smart enough to know it. He'll have the place wired to detect intruders, and we'll turn that against him. You'll go in with an obvious explosive device. If you pretend to fumble while you're setting it, it will give Volkov's men a chance to capture you."

Kate shakes her head. "What if they just kill him?"

"They won't," Hunt assures her. "That would deprive Volkov of the chance to shove Alexis' captivity in her father's face and watch me suffer while he kills both of them. But like the Trojan horse, Richard will have everything we need to free Alexis and take Volkov out for good. I'll be monitoring the operation from a post overlooking the mansion. Kate, once Richard releases Alexis, they'll have to get out of there. That's where you come in. There will also be guards here, on the back way out. When chaos breaks loose, you rush in, taking them out to clear the way for Richard and Alexis to escape. You'll all need to make a run for the U.S. Embassy. It's less than a klick away. Once you're there, ask for Deputy Chief of Missions, Jim Aldacott. He'll provide you with an official cover story that credits Interpol and the French police and leaves me out of it. He'll also make sure you get back to the states safely."

"What about you?" Castle asks. "Will you let us know that you got out safely?"

"I can't, Richard, at least not directly. Volkov isn't the only bad actor out there. Maybe the situation will change someday, but for now, I can't afford any more contact with my family, but I'll try to get a message to you somehow.

"Before we start our operation, we'll need a few things, from some people who only take cash. I told you your case could come in handy. You'll still be able to return most of the money to the bank to transfer back to the states."

Castle shrugs. "Nice to know, but I'd already written it off. Three million or 3 billion, no amount of money is worth more than Alexis' life."

Jackson grasps his son's shoulder. "We agree on that."

* * *

Castle can hear footsteps approaching and delays fully attaching a bomb to the conduit until he's sure Volkov's goons can see him. For a moment, he forgets to breathe as they aim their rifles at him. Could Hunt have been wrong? They look more than willing to shoot him as he stands, arms raised. One of them says a few words of Russian into a walkie-talkie. Castle understands the thug's answer of "Da," before searching Castle and grabbing a radio from his pocket. Another thug ties a blindfold over Castle's eyes before he is shoved down the tunnel.

The walk seems endless until Rick hears Alexis' shout of "Daddy!" He tears off his blindfold and runs to the cage where she's imprisoned. "Dad, what are you doing here.

"I came to rescue you, but I got caught." He sticks his fingers through the mesh of the cage, touching hers. "At least we're together. It's going to be all right."

Rick recognizes the voice that proclaims, "Hardly that, Mr. Castle. You are like your father, rushing in where you don't belong. You will pay for that, and so will he."

Volkov's thug holds up Castle's radio. "We found this on him."

Volkov inspects the device. "Short-range. Our target's not far. This will end very soon." Volkov thumbs the send button. "I know you can hear me. I know you are close. You know I have your granddaughter. I also have your son. You have 10 seconds to surrender yourself before I start killing them, piece by piece."

Alexis's fingers curl into her father's. "Dad!"

"Shh! It's going to be OK."

Volkov's voice grates through the room. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five."

"You're not going to kill anyone, Volkov," Hunt's voice rattles through the radio's speaker. "Because you're going to be dead."

Volkov gasps at the split-second of high pitched hum before the radio he's holding explodes. Castle pulls off his wristwatch and attaches it to the lock on Alexis' cage as the men surrounding what's left of the Russian spy lay on the floor around him. "Cover your eyes, Sweetheart." A hot flare sets Alexis free.

Stationed just out of sight from the back of the mansion, Kate hears the blast and watches two guards pound toward the door. As one opens it, she takes them out with an almost silent weapon Hunt provided. Peering inside, she sees two more guards running inward and takes them out as well, as Rick and Alexis appear. "Clear, for now, come on!" she urges. She points down an alley. "This way!"

Hand in hand, Rick and Alexis run with Kate, with the sound of pursuers behind them. "We're Americans, open the gate!" Kate shouts at the Marines guarding the Embassy entrance.

The U.S. forces point their weapons at the thugs who attempt to follow the escaping trio inside. A gunnery sergeant nods at Kate. "We were given word that you might be along. You're safe now, Ma'am. You're all safe."

* * *

Martha rechecks the fancy spread she has laid out on the table in the loft. Richard called from Teterboro to let her know that he, Kate, and Alexis were on the way, which gave her more than enough time to set everything out. Deciding they'd all had enough of anything French for a while, she settled on cinnamon buns from Alexis' favorite bakery along with an assortment of fruit and a smoked fish platter from the deli. Richard assured her three times on the phone that everyone is all right, but Martha won't be totally convinced until she sees them come through the door.

Rick stops outside the door of the loft, gazing down at his daughter. "You know Gram is going to make this into a dramatic entrance. Are you ready?"

"I'm more than ready to be home," Alexis responds.

"How about you, Kate? We've all agreed on what and how much we're going to say, right?"

"Come on, Dad," Alexis urges, "We went over it ten times on the plane."

Castle takes a deep breath and opens the door as Martha greets them with arms outspread. "Darlings, you're brilliant, just brilliant! She hugs each one of them before gesturing to the table. "Come, I have breakfast, a welcome home feast. But Richard, I know you'll want to make the coffee yourself, your own special brew."

Heading for the kitchen, and giving silent thanks that his mother didn't try to cook, Rick spies a padded overseas shipping envelope on the counter. "When did this come?"

"It arrived not long before you did," Martha explains. "Something special?" Rick opens the package and shakes out a copy of Casino Royale. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

Rick exchanges looks with Kate and Alexis. "Mother, I, we, have something to tell you."


	77. Chapter 77

Too Close

Chapter 77

"What are you doing, Babe?" Kate asks as Castle spits into a plastic tube.

"Trying to fill in some missing pieces of a puzzle. I'm going to get my DNA done and see if I can find the rest of my family," Rick explains. "Before I met my father, I was willing to settle for fantasy. I even imagined that he invented canned whipped cream. But now that I know who he is, and how deadly he is, I'd like to know where it came from and just how strong the strain is. When I had to get Alexis' location out of Douglas Stevens, I was — I think you know. And my father seemed so — I don't know— casual about taking human lives, even for the best of causes."

"You're wondering if it's a family trait?"

"Yeah."

"Castle, you didn't kill Douglas Stevens. I don't know that you did any more than you thought was necessary to get Alexis back. Your father is like he is because he was trained to be that way. It's as automatic a response as we cops have when civilian lives are in danger. But I have to admit; I am curious about the rest of your family. You get your dramatic bent from Martha, but there may also be a famous writer somewhere in your ancestry."

"And what if we find out that my genes come from Jack the Ripper? Hmm. Bad example. No one knows who he was. How about H.H. Holmes?"

"Who?"

"Infamous killer who built a murder castle. He was hanged."

"I think you're more like Sherlock Holmes. You can't resist a mystery. But Castle, whatever you find out, can't change the warm, caring person I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with."

"Speaking of which, we still haven't finished our guest list. We should…"

Kate's phone dings a text alert. "We'll have to work on it later. We have a body."

* * *

"What have we got?" Kate asks Esposito.

The vic, Arthur Felder, suddenly choked in the middle of his meal and collapsed. His host, Eric Vaughn, tried the Heimlich maneuver, but it didn't work."

"That's because he didn't die of choking," Lanie inserts. "He had foam around his mouth that wouldn't have come up if he just had a blocked airway. That and the constriction of his blood vessels indicates a toxin, but we'll need the lab to tell us which one. CSU can analyze the food, although Mr. Vaughn offered the facilities of his company to help. I'll run tox screens on the body."

"Wait, Eric Vaughn, the Eric Vaughn?" Castle questions.

"The one and only," Lanie replies dreamily.

"What am I missing?" Kate wonders.

"Kate, don't you read Forbes — or People?" Castle queries. "He's on the 400 right after Gates and Bezos. And he's a philanthropist. His foundation provides vaccines and medical equipment all over the world. He's also an environmental warrior, right up there with Posner, as a hero to Alexis."

"And handsome — and that accent! Sexy!" Lanie adds.

"So, where is this heroic walking pheromone?" Kate demands.

Ryan inclines his head toward a man in the corner with his back to them and a cellphone to his ear.

"Mr. Vaughn," Kate calls, striding over. "Mr. Vaughn," she repeats, as he ignores her to finish his conversation.

Finally, Vaughn turns to face Kate, caressing her ears with a musical lilt. "I'm sorry, Detective…"

"Beckett, Kate Beckett."

"Detective Beckett," Vaughn repeats, "I was talking to my pilot. I sent him to retrieve Arthur's family. I want to get them here as quickly and comfortably as possible."

The ire fades from Kate's face. "Mr. Vaughn, what was your relationship to Mr. Felder?"

"We had a business partnership. He invested in Mexi Solar, one of my clean energy companies. He was considering $20 million in additional funding."

"So, with his death, you lost $20 million?" Kate queries.

"I didn't lose anything, Detective. Mexi Solar is up and running at a profit. Arthur Felder's father made a fortune in coal. When Arthur realized how his family contributed to global warming, he looked for opportunities to ameliorate the damage. I offered him one."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to stop him from making that investment, or might have a grudge against him?" Kate inquires.

Vaughn shrugs. "Honestly, I can't Detective, but I didn't know him well. His family may be more helpful. They should be arriving in a few hours."

"Thank you, Mr. Vaughn. Will you be staying in the city in case I have any further questions?"

"I'll be staying until I'm sure Arthur's family can complete arrangements to honor him, and then attending the ceremony, wherever it takes place."

"That may not be for a while," Kate informs him. "Our medical examiner is quite thorough, and she won't release the body until she is satisfied that her post-mortem is complete."

"Yes, she seems quite competent," Vaughn agrees. "Then it appears that I will be at your disposal, Detective Beckett."

"Beckett," Esposito calls. "The back door was propped open, and we found a waiter's vest outside."

Kate nods. "So it's possible that a member of the serving staff spiked Felder's food with the toxin and took off. Find out who's missing, and we'll see what he has to say."

"You should run background on the chef too," Castle suggests. "Chefs are taught to prepare and cook food to destroy toxins. Perhaps he fell down on the job — accidentally or deliberately."

"You have a point, Castle," Kate acknowledges. "I wouldn't be surprised if when you get your DNA results back, there might be a culinary connection."

"Castle grins. "I may find the inventor of canned whipped cream yet."

* * *

Kate picks up a marker at the murder board. "OK, so far, we have the busboy, Corey Harrison, who remembers someone brushing by him in the kitchen, shortly before Arthur Felder died. We have a chef who trained in Japan to prepare fugu and would have had access to an exotic toxin, but Lanie hasn't established which one was the murder weapon yet. What else?"

"I checked on Arthur Felder," Esposito reports. "He just bought and closed down a chemical plant because it was polluting the groundwater. Two hundred people lost their jobs. He gave the employees some severance pay and has an agency trying to place them, but that's still a lot of angry people."

"Angry people with access to a fast-acting exotic toxin?" Castle asks. "Seems like a disgruntled ex-employee would be more likely to want to beat Felder up or shoot him."

"Lanie doesn't know what the poison was, yet," Esposito argues. "Maybe it was some chemical used in the plant."

A text dings on Kate's phone. "She does now. Let's go see what she has to say."

* * *

"The murder weapon was a synthesized agent similar to saxitoxin, but faster acting," Lanie announces. "It's not commercially available. It would have to come from a research lab somewhere like big pharma, the government, or a university. You wouldn't find it in a chemical plant. I checked the stomach contents. The toxin was on the mushrooms."

"What mushrooms?" Castle asked. "Didn't the check say that Felder ordered the squab? That comes with quinoa, not mushrooms. I remember thinking it was a weird combination when I saw it on the menu — not a quinoa fan. The quail partners with mushrooms."

"We'll check with the server to see if Felder ordered the squab, and Eric Vaughn ordered the quail. If you're right about the sides, Castle, the killer poisoned the wrong man."


	78. Chapter 78

Too Close

Chapter 78

"So, Beckett," Ryan reports, "Lucas, Vaughn's server, admits that he might have messed up the orders. He was under a lot of pressure because the chef was on a tear. Corey Harrison was late. He said his bus was running behind schedule. And here's the thing. Corey Harrison has worked there for years, always takes the bus, and has never been late before. That's the only thing that kept him from being fired on the spot. I requested video at Corey's bus stop to check his story."

"Good work, Ryan and, get Harrison in here," Kate instructs. "I want to talk to him — right after I talk to Eric Vaughn."

"I usually prefer tea, but this coffee is excellent," Vaughn comments from his seat in the lounge.

Kate nods toward Rick. "You can thank Mr. Castle. He's the master brewer here."

"Mr. Castle," Vaughn acknowledges, "I see you have a talent in addition to your writing. My mother loves your books."

Castle's jaw tightens. "Always nice to know I have a fan with mature and discerning tastes."

"Mr. Vaughn," Kate interjects, "I'll get right to the point. We think that you, not Arthur Felder, were the intended victim."

Vaughn scrubs a hand down his face. "That is horrifying. I have enemies, Detective Beckett. One doesn't introduce disruptive technology without resistance, but I would never wish to endanger anyone else."

"I'll need a list of those enemies, Mr. Vaughn," Kate continues.

"Eric, please."

"Fine, Eric, I'll need to know of any threats you've received, particularly from anyone who might have been able to get their hands on a variant of a saxitoxin. Do you know what that is?"

"I do, Detective. One of my company's biotech subsidiaries was offered a contract to manufacture one. I instructed that the offer be turned down. We don't deal in anything that could be used as a weapon. As to threats, I never see them. Our security department handles that and turns anything credible over to the authorities. I'll make sure that my people make those available to you, in addition to the details of the offering concerning the toxin," Eric promises.

"Regarding your safety," Kate continues, "Mr., um, Eric, the N.Y.P.D. can arrange a protective detail, unless you'd prefer to use your own security."

Eric leans forward, smiling at Kate. "From what I've seen so far, I believe I can put my trust in the expertise of the N.Y.P.D."

* * *

"Damn it, Kate! That jerk was hitting on you," Castle exclaims after uniformed officers arrive to escort Vaughn back to his hotel. "I wish you would wear your ring on duty."

"Castle, you know why I don't. That diamond could poke through a glove, and it's big enough to get caught on something. Maybe you should have been less generous," Kate adds, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Hell, Kate, I would have put the moon on your finger if Tiffany's could have figured out how to set it. Just be careful around Vaughn. I know that look. He wants more than your services as a cop."

"Hey, relax, Babe," Kate urges. "Gates will put a squad of cops on him. If I have to go near him again, we'll both be surrounded by my brothers and sisters in blue."

* * *

"Mr. Harrison, you were late to work the day Arthur Felder was killed. Why?" Kate questions.

Corey Harrison twists and untwists his fingers beneath the table. "The bus was running late."

"Try again, " Kate returns. "We checked. Your bus was running on time. You just didn't get on it. We also have some video of you at your bus stop." Kate brings up a clip on a laptop and swivels it so that Corey can see. "That's you, and someone is handing you a spray-vial. I also had your apartment searched. A container that appears identical to the one in this video was wrapped in newspaper in your trash. The lab is analyzing the residue in it now, but I think we both know that it contained the poison that killed Arthur Felder."

Corey buries his face in his hands. "Look, my sister, Linda, has something called Erdheim-Chester disease. Up until a year ago, nothing helped her. She just kept getting worse and worse. Then she signed up for a drug trial with Cyclen Pharmaceuticals, and she started getting better. But the trial ended, and she couldn't get the medicine anymore. I went to Cyclen to beg, and finally, Cindy Paralti, the owner's daughter, called me the night before that man died. She told me that she could get Linda what she needs, but I'd have to do her a favor. I told her I'd do anything. The guy who met me at the bus stop gave me the stuff to put on the food for Eric Vaughn. I swear to God, I didn't know what it was. I never meant to kill anyone."

"So, where do we find this Cindy Paralti?" Castle asks.

Corey spreads his hands. "I don't know. I only saw her at Cyclen, but she didn't have a regular office there. She didn't talk like she lives in New York. The number she called me from is on my phone. You might be able to trace it."

"Are you going to track down Cindy Paralti?" Castle asks Kate as Corey is led back to holding.

"I'll put the boys on it. I was hoping we could grab some time to do some more work on our guest list."

"I don't know whether to be pleased or dismayed," Castle responds, "but I'll be happy to get you away from Eric Vaughn for a while."

Kate and Rick are almost to the elevator when Gates calls from her office door. "Detective Beckett, a moment, please. And Mr. Castle, you might as well come too. I suppose this tangentially concerns you also."

"What do you need, Captain?" Kate queries as she and Castle enter Gates' office.

"To fulfill a demand from what is evidently a very powerful man. Eric Vaughn has requested you as his security detail."

"To organize it?" Kate questions.

"As it," Gates clarifies. "He wants only you, and the commissioner has instructed me to meet his terms. You'll be staying with him in his hotel suite."

"Captain, that's crazy!" Castle protests. "At the least, Kate should have backup."

Gates fiddles with her reading glasses. "I agree, Mr. Castle, and I understand your discomfort with the situation. I will be putting a cop at the entrance to the VIP elevator and a unit outside the hotel, but that's the best I can do."

"Which hotel, Captain?" Castle asks.

"The Four Seasons."

Castle nods. "Then there may be something I can do."

* * *

"You got the suite next to Vaughn?" Kate asks incredulously.

"Sure. I refer all the visiting authors in my poker group to the Four Seasons, and most of them are good tippers. They remember life before writing was a day job. Anyway, word gets around — and so do I. While I'm there I can liaise with the boys on any new clues on the case. And if you need me, you can bang on the wall."

"Or text," Kate suggests.

"Unless the assassin has a signal jammer. That toxin was pretty high-tech, who knows what other tricks he has up his sleeve?"

"OK, Babe." Kate grabs a handful of Rick's well-rounded derriere. "It won't be nearly as much fun as the other wall-banging we do, but I'll keep it in mind."


	79. Chapter 79

Too Close

Chapter 79

"You must be famished, Detective," Vaughn suggests. "The room service is quite good here. I could have anything you like sent up."

"No, thank you, Mr. Vaughn," Kate demurs. "If I'm going to be your only protection, I can't afford distraction while you are up and about. And I ate before I arrived."

" Eric," he reminds her. "Perhaps some Champagne then," Vaughn persists, holding up a chilled vintage bottle. "We can celebrate the capture of the man who poisoned Arthur."

"I don't see much cause for celebration until we get the person behind it. You said that you were acquainted with Cindy Paralti. Isn't there anything else you can tell us about her?"

"I met Cindy when she came to me for an investment in Cyclen pharmaceuticals. I had my people dig into the financial situation of the company and concluded that even with investment, the company had no ability to continue in business as a standalone. And as I said before, I had no interest in the saxitoxin derivative. The review took some time, and Cindy and I shared several meals during that period. I'm afraid that she might have gotten the idea that my interest in her went beyond business. When I came to a decision that the only way that Cyclen could survive would be as a subsidiary, she was furious. She felt that I was devaluing her father's life's work. She also expressed feelings of betrayal of what she felt was a personal relationship."

"So she's thoroughly pissed off at you," Kate summarizes. "She wants revenge for both business reasons and because she thinks you jilted her."

"That's the essence of it." Vaughn agrees. "I tried to make it as easy on her father as I could. He still runs Cyclen, but with strong oversight."

"And the drug for Erdheim-Chester Syndrome that Corey Harrison wanted for his sister?"

"Too high a level of serious side effects for the FDA to approve it without modifications and more trials. However, if Harrison had come to me, I would have done what I could for his sister."

"Eric, busboys are not usually in the habit of walking up and talking to billionaires," Kate points out, "and I think you must understand how intimidating you can be, or I wouldn't be here. You used your clout to set up a situation that is less than ideal for both of us, and I don't appreciate it either from a personal or professional standpoint."

"Ouch," Vaughn reacts. "Perhaps I'd better start over. Detective Beckett, I noticed from the first moment that you are an attractive and intelligent woman. I may have handled it clumsily, but I only wanted to spend some time getting to know you. If you find that offensive, I apologize. Or is it that you're involved? Castle?"

"Perhaps you should talk to your mother more often, Eric." Kate pulls a chain with her ring on it from beneath her blouse. "It's no secret to Castle fans that Rick and I are engaged."

"Your fiancé has excellent taste in women and…" A bullet just misses Vaughn's head as he leans in to view the ring.

Kate pushes Vaughn to the floor and pulls out her radio. "Shot fired. Four Seasons hotel. The bullet appears to have come from across the street. Stay down," she instructs Vaughn as he begins to push upward. The gunman may still be out there."

Castle pounds on the door of Vaughn's suite. "Kate, I heard the shot. Are you all right?" he calls through the door.

"Fine, Babe. So is Vaughn, but I can't let him move until our people make sure the shooter no longer has him in his sites. Go downstairs and get the cop guarding the elevator and the men from the unit outside. They should be coming into the hotel any second. You can use your key to get them up to this floor. And grab someone to get the door to this suite open. I'm staying where I am until backup arrives."

"Copy that."

"Your fiancé has a suite on this floor?" Vaughn queries.

A smile tugs at the corners of Kate's mouth. "You're not the only one who can use connections to get what he wants, Eric. Rick was protecting his partner, professionally and personally. He's done that practically since he started shadowing me."

"I get the message, Detective," Vaughn responds, "loudly and clearly. So, how long do you think it will be until we can get up off the carpet?"

"If I were you," Kate advises, "I'd get comfortable."

* * *

"At least Vaughn's allowed himself to be moved to a safe house," Kate muses, sitting at the counter of the loft while Castle crafts her latte.

Rick hands her a mug topped with a foam heart. "Too bad that Cindy Paralti is still in the wind."

"Yeah, but I'm not convinced she hired the shooter. The guy the cops sweeping the building across the street nabbed didn't know who put out the contract. And given what Eric Vaughn told me about the finances of Cyclen, I don't know that she would have had the resources. It's possible that someone else was using her to get that toxin, someone who knew her situation."

"That would suggest someone in the inner circle of Vaughn Enterprises. Kate, what if the whole Paralti jealousy-revenge thing is a red herring, and she's just a pawn in someone else's murder plot?"

"Who?"

"It seems like the place to start would be anyone who knew where Vaughn would be dining. There can't be many people who would have had his schedule. It could even have been someone else at the table."

Kate's coffee sloshes as she slams it to the countertop. "You're right, Babe. We just treated the other diners as witnesses. Now we have to look at them as suspects - but in the morning. We finally have a break to work on our guest list, and I'm not going to let it get away again."

"Right, Castle agrees. "So just how big is your Aunt Theresa's side of the family?"

"Big enough so that we'd better double-check the capacity of that roof."

Castle sighs. "I wonder if I'll get any results back on my DNA in time to know if there's anyone who should be on the groom's side of the aisle. I paid the upcharge for a rush analysis. But then, whoever I find might not be someone I'd want to invite to our wedding."

"We can always hold a few spots open," Kate proposes. "But our gang from the 12th will be on both sides, in any case. That's a pretty big number just from the bullpen. And there are your author buddies. Do you have a list of those yet?"

"It's practically the roster of the Poe Society, but I'll try to winnow it down."

"Just don't eliminate John Grisham. My dad's been dying to meet him."

"Noted."

"And I want Lanie for my maid of honor. Who do you want for your best man?"

"Does it have to be a man?" Castle asks.

"Castle, is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, it's just that I'm supposed to pick the person who means the most to me, besides you, of course. And it was never more clear to me than when Volkov took her that it's Alexis."

"That makes sense to me, Babe, but if you value your friendships at the precinct, you'd better make Ryan and Esposito groomsmen."

Rick nods. "I'll even spring for their tuxedos."


	80. Chapter 80

Too Close

Chapter 80

At the insistence of the sunlight forcing its way through the bedroom window, Castle reluctantly opens his eyes. He props himself up on his elbow as Kate stirs beside him. "Good morning."

Kate blinks at the intrusive rays. "I feel like we just fell asleep. Trimming our list was more work than some of the murders we've solved."

"True," Rick agrees, "but at least we got it done. I'll get the coffee started if you want a couple more minutes in bed."

"I'd like more than a couple, but we don't have time. I want to look into the background of some of the people at Vaughn's table before we talk to them. If I order financials early enough in the day, we'll get them faster."

Castle taps his finger against the financial statement of David Anderson, chief financial officer of Vaughn Enterprises. "For a CFO, this guy isn't very financially savvy. His investments are losing money. It leads one to question what he's been doing with Vaughn's funds. Felder was looking to invest an extra $20 million in Mexi Solar. I wonder if it was worth it."

Kate chews on her lip. "Vaughn said it was making money."

"Sure, but he has subsidiaries all over the world. Would he have known what was going on in every single one of them, or would he have depended on Anderson to monitor their financial situations for him? From what Vaughn tried to pull on you, he doesn't keep his eyes exclusively glued to his ledgers."

"No, he doesn't," Kate agrees. "Anderson would have known about Cindy Paralti and Cyclen, too. Let's get more on Mexi Solar and Vaughn Enterprises before we talk to Anderson."

"There's an environmental site that Alexis keeps urging me to follow. It has information about a lot of renewable energy companies. I can start there," Rick volunteers.

"Good. I'll finish checking out the rest of Vaughn's guests, but Anderson seems our most likely suspect."

* * *

David Anderson pulls at his signature bow tie. Once the poison was identified, he'd expected all the suspicion to fall on Cindy Paralti. She's the only one who can point the finger at him, and he made sure she had sufficient funds to disappear for a while.

Kate lays a file on the table in front of her as she and Castle take seats opposite their suspect in Interrogation. "Mr. Anderson, you are in charge of investments at Vaughn Enterprises, are you not?"

"I have accounting and investigative staff, but I oversee those matters," Anderson agrees.

"What can you tell us about Mexi Solar?" Kate queries.

"It's a solid company in the growing solar energy field. It fabricates units for use in Southern California and Arizona as well as in Mexico," Anderson claims.

"I'd be interested in how they do that," Castle inserts as Kate hands him a photograph from her file. He lays the image of an empty factory in front of Anderson. "Mexi Solar has no equipment and no employees."

"That's an old picture," Anderson claims as sweat dampens his previously crisp white collar. "It was taken before production began."

"Look at the timestamp," Kate instructs. "That picture was taken by a very disappointed group of environmental activists two weeks ago, at the time Vaughn Enterprises claimed that Mexi Solar was shipping thousands of solar panels. In fact, the paperwork you submitted to Eric Vaughn featured those numbers. But Mexi Solar closed down for lack of funding, didn't it?"

"You made a series of unsuccessful investments for Vaughn," Castle continues. "To cover your failures, you set up your own little Ponzi scheme, replacing old losses with new investment, and you phonied up paperwork for Vaughn to sign off on, knowing that he wouldn't check."

"But Arthur Felder was planning to check," Kate picks up the narrative. "He wanted Vaughn to accompany him on a trip to Mexico to inspect Mexi Solar. We talked to Vaughn's pilot. The trip was already planned. But you couldn't let that happen, could you? So you conspired with Cindy Paralti to pressure Corey Harrison to poison Eric. When it was Felder who died, you knew you wouldn't be safe for long. The trip to Mexi Solar would be off temporarily, but if Vaughn took another investor down there or went by himself, he'd discover what you'd done."

"You can't prove I had anything to do with Arthur Felder's death," Anderson insists. "And as for shifting money around at Vaughn Enterprises, that is within my portfolio as CFO. Making a few bad decisions isn't a crime."

On cue, Esposito sticks his head in the door of interrogation. "The state troopers in Massachusetts just picked up Cindy Paralti at the cabin we tracked her to on Cape Cod. The troopers said she's already spilling her guts, and Ryan and I will be going up to get her."

"Care to revise your statement, Mr. Anderson?" Kate asks.

"I want a lawyer," Anderson demands.

"You're going to need a good one," Castle remarks.

Castle high fives Esposito as L.T. hustles Anderson to Holding. "Good performance."

"The troopers are still on their way to get Paralti," Esposito admits. "Ryan flagged her debit and credit cards. She must have run out of cash. When she charged a bottle of insect repellent and filled a prescription for an antihistamine at a pharmacy on Cape Cod this morning, we had her."

Castle scratches an imaginary itch. "The mosquitoes up there can be brutal, especially under the trees."

Kate grins. "We'll put another kind of bite on her. She'll have no choice but to give up Anderson. We'll probably find a money trail from Anderson to the hitter who shot at Vaughn. The guy who gave the toxin to Corey Harrison at the bus stop has to be connected to Anderson, too. I believe that a former CFO will be spending his time trying to figure out how to invest whatever he earns in the prison laundry."

* * *

Castle picks up an envelope with a double helix logo from his desk and throws it down again for the third time. Kate wraps her arm around his waist. "Babe, I thought you wanted to know your DNA results and start tracing your family."

"I did. I do. But now that they're here, the idea scares the hell out of me. What if I am related to a serial killer, or I'm carrying genes for some terrible degenerative disease?"

"Then you'll cope with it. We'll cope with it. But you're going to think the worst until you open the envelope."

"You're right," Castle admits picking up the missive again. His fumbling fingers lift the flap and pull out a report.

Kate leans her head on his shoulder. "What does it say?"

"That my ancestry is mostly French — with a little bit of Finnish. I would never have figured that. God, I hope I'm not related to Jacque Henri. They also list a recessive gene for red hair."

"No surprise there," Kate comments.

"No serious genetic diseases and nothing about serial killers, but they said this is just an overview. There's a code I'm supposed to use to sign on to their site to get more details of the report and search for family. They're also going to send me updates as they expand their tests for more markers. Anything is possible in the future."

"Babe, it always is. We left room to fill a few more seats at the wedding. Are you going to sign on?"

"Will you sit with me while I do?"

"I'm not going anywhere."


	81. Chapter 81

Too Close

Chapter 81

"Wow! Mother said her people were carnies, but they really traveled — and left a trail. It looks like I have connections all over this country and Canada and some in Europe. Maybe that's how the Finnish crept in. I wonder if they ever performed for royalty?"

"If there is a story about her family doing that, I'd think Martha would know it. You should ask her." Kate suggests.

"I will," Castle agrees.

Kate leans in to see the screen of Castle's computer. "What about your father?"

"It doesn't look like there's nearly as much on his side. There's someone in Three Rivers Canada and one each in Massachusetts and Louisiana. That must be the French ancestry. If my forebears came over as Huguenots, they might have landed in Three Rivers and then traveled south like the Cajuns."

"It sounds like there might be an interesting tale there too."

"Not that I'd ever hear it — at least not from him. I'm going to put out messages to all the links that came up and see if anyone is willing to identify themself and respond. My father's relatives in Canada and New England are a short flight or a long drive away. Maybe we will have an extra wedding guest or two. And even if we don't, it could be great to make the connections."

Kate flicks back an errant strand of hair falling in Rick's face. "I hope it works out for you, Babe."

* * *

Kate surveys the scene around a bombed-out car. It was predictable that the N.Y.P.D. wouldn't be the only official presence. Bombings are often assumed to be terrorist activity unless proven otherwise. But this one doesn't fit the pattern. Terrorists design bombs to do as much damage as possible. Taking out one man in one car and leaving everything in the surrounding area untouched seems more personal than political.

Esposito trudges over in disgust. "The feds took over the scene before CSU could even finish their sweep. They could have at least given us a chance to identify the vic before claiming jurisdiction. From what CSU was able to get before the feds shut them down, the explosion originated in the driver's seat. There was no bomb under the car or in the engine compartment. It's like someone tossed something at the driver, but none of the witnesses saw anything like that happen."

"What did they see?" Kate asks.

"Ryan and I didn't get very far in questioning them before the feds shut us down, but I spoke to a teenager who said it was a tiny guided missile, like in one of his video games."

"Or a drone, maybe?" Castle wonders.

Esposito points to a man in black, supervising the removal of the car and the body. "That guy had his people hustle the kid off before he could say anything else. Beckett, this stinks of a cover-up."

"And the MIB over there is the one pulling the rug over it. I'm going to go talk to him," Kate declares. "Did you get a name?"

"Yeah. He flashed his DHS ID at me. It said, Jared Stack."

With Castle close behind her, Kate stalks across the street. "Agent Stack, is it?"

Stack swivels, his appraising glance of Kate earning him a black look from Rick. Stack's eyes quickly take in Kate's badge. "Yes, Detective…"

"Beckett. Agent Stack, can you show me your authorization for disrupting my crime scene? Your interference blocked us from obtaining the evidence necessary to determine the cause of death as well as who's behind the victim's near incineration."

"Detective Beckett, as I'm sure you're aware, The Patriot Act gives extensive powers to the DHS in the case of terrorism or even suspected terrorism. I don't need further authorization. But," he pulls a card out of his wallet, "in the interest of maintaining a working relationship with the N.Y.P.D., you can call this number. It's the headquarters of a special task force operating directly under the authority of the Attorney General. Ask for Chief Carl Villante. He will fill you in on the powers assigned to me regarding this incident."

"I assure you that I will do just that, Agent Stack," Kate returns.

Kate's call has to make it past two watchdogs before reaching Villante, but invoking Stack's name is the key both times. The chief is polite but brief in informing Kate that Jared Stack has complete authority over the situation under Federal law and will request local assistance as necessary.

Castle gazes down at Kate as she shoves her phone back in the pocket of her slacks. "So Stack's bona fides are legitimate?"

"They are," Kate confirms.

Castle stares at the MIB. "That doesn't mean we have to like him."

"No," Kate agrees, "it doesn't. And it doesn't mean we're going to leave this alone, either. CSU must have gotten something before they were warned off. And the plate on the car is still legible. We can identify the owner."

"If something flew over the city to reach the vehicle, someone, probably a lot of someones, would have noticed," Rick guesses. "There's got to be something on social media. A lot of posters add location tags. With any luck, we can trace the route it took."

"I can have Ryan scrub the traffic cam video for the car's approach," Kate adds. "We'll get enough of a picture of what happened to put together a timeline and maybe figure out who had it in for our victim, while Stack is playing spy games."

Castle presses a quick kiss to the top of Kate's head. "I love the way you think."

* * *

"The car belonged to a Dale Tanner," Esposito announces, striding across the bullpen. "and the DMV's description matches what was left of him in the car. We've got an address."

"Good," Kate acknowledges. "Castle and I will go check it out. Do you have any military buddies who might know anything about a missile or drone that could have been aimed at Tanner?"

"I might," Esposito responds. "I'll make some calls."

"I can continue monitoring social media while we're en route," Castle volunteers.

Kate nods. "Let's go."

* * *

Tanner's wife, Beth, answers the door of Tanner's home. "Mrs. Tanner, I'm Detective Kate Beckett and I'm investigating an incident that took place this morning. Did your husband drive his car into Manhattan?"

Beth shrugs, frowning. "It's not in the garage, and he's not here, so he must have driven it somewhere. I left early for work. We're not supposed to take personal calls on company time, so he doesn't let me know when he's going out."

"Your husband was at home when you left?" Kate queries.

"As far as I know. Dale works from here running a website. He closes the door of his office while he's posting. He gets very involved in what he's doing, so I don't disturb him, but I know he was up. Our coffee maker starts on a timer at 6 a.m., and there was a cup missing by the time I poured mine."

"What kind of a website?" Castle asks.

"Whistleblower Anonymous. He exposes government abuses. He helped to break the secrecy around the torture of CIA prisoners. What he wrote led to a congressional investigation."

"Sounds as if there might be some people who wouldn't like him much," Castle notes.

"We've had several visits from the FBI, but Dale's never been charged with doing anything wrong. He does good work, important work," Beth insists, "but he gets a lot of hate mail. Do you think something happened to him?"

Kate lets her voice fall to its gentlest tone. "We'll need verification from federal authorities, but we think it's possible."


	82. Chapter 82

Too Close

Chapter 82

Jared Stack steps out of a black SUV as Kate and Rick are leaving the Tanner house. "You don't give up, do you, Detective Beckett?"

"Considering that we got here first, no reason I should have," Kate retorts. "There was a murder within N.Y.P.D. jurisdiction, and the DHS is obviously not up to speed."

"We were aware of the identity of the victim, Detective. We've kept tabs on Mr. Tanner for some time."

"Then you should have had the grace to notify his widow. I had to leave her unsure of whether her husband is alive or not. Now I have to go back in there and drop the other shoe."

"I'll be doing that, Detective. I have serious questions for her concerning the relationship of her husband's activities to national security."

"Hardly what the poor woman needs at this moment," Castle remarks. "Look, Agent Stack, Detective Beckett has already built a rapport with Mrs. Tanner. At least take her with you to soften the blow."

Stack glances back to the curb as a second SUV arrives. "Those are my people. We're going to have to collect some of Tanner's belongings for analysis."

"Meaning his computer equipment," Kate concludes.

"Very good, Detective. If you would like to sit with Mrs. Tanner during the removal, it will make the process easier on everyone, but I'm going to have to ask Mr. Castle to stay outside."

"Go ahead, Beckett," Castle urges, locking gazes with Kate. "I still have some things to go through on my phone."

Kate gives him an almost imperceptible nod. "All right. Let's go, Agent Stack. The shorter we can make Mrs. Tanner's ordeal, the better."

* * *

"Stack's a sonofabitch," Castle snarls when Kate finally joins him in her unit.

"He wasn't quite as bad as I thought he'd be. He gave me time to confirm what she was already afraid of before he brought his people in. And it looked like they took things out as unobtrusively as they could. But Beth Tanner's still in a bad way. She has a son attending college. I called him to come. He'll be staying with her. It's always hardest to get through something like this at night."

Castle strokes her cheek. "You would know about that. Hey, there were a lot of postings about what hit Tanner's car. There were even some pictures. The thing must have been moving pretty fast because most of them were fuzzy. But there was one post from Amobug1259, probably an amateur photographer who can take high-speed pics. No blur. It was a drone, Kate. I got a screen capture. Good thing too, because when I went back to look at it again, it had disappeared."

"Sounds like Espo was right about a cover-up. Let's find out if he's got any more information for us, or can get some. And we can check on what Ryan's got too."

* * *

Ryan waves as Kate and Castle emerge from the elevator. "I've got something! Before Tanner drove to where his car was bombed, he was at a park a couple of miles away. The traffic cam caught him driving up, and a security cam captured him sitting on a bench with a woman. I pulled the DMV on his wife. It wasn't her, but they appeared to know each other. Tori is trying to run facial recognition now."

"He could have been having an affair," Castle considers.

"Or she might have been an informant on one of his exposés," Kate proposes. "But if he had a meeting in the park, what was he doing just sitting in his car on the street? We need more background on Dale Tanner."

Castle taps the screen of his phone. "We could have a hard time with that. Citations of Dale Tanner are disappearing as we speak."

"Not fast enough," Esposito calls from his desk. "I just got off the phone with a buddy I knew in special ops. He couldn't give me the details of anything classified, but he told me that the press has already been made aware that the military is testing defensive drones along both coasts. The Pentagon is putting the knowledge out there as a deterrent to any group considering launching an attack by sea."

"And they'd want to protect New York as a prime target," Kate surmises. "Maybe whoever was controlling a drone screwed up and lost control."

"Or decided that Dale Tanner was a threat to the country and went rogue," Castle suggests. "Either way, the DHS might be scrambling to help put a lid on whatever happened."

"If we let them succeed, Beth Tanner will never know how or why her husband died. And his son will never know what killed his father." Kate slams her hand against the wall. "I can't let that happen. Espo, what base would the pilot controlling that drone have been working out of?"

Esposito shakes his head. "Depending on the hardware, he could have been as far away as Nevada, but the closest one is Mitchell Field on Long Island."

"It's a place to start. Castle, you feel like a little road trip?"

"With the feds running the investigation, you might not make it past the gate," Esposito warns.

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "I have an idea that just may get us through."

* * *

"I can't believe you got us in," Kate giggles as an MP waves them onto the base. "How did you know about Fortis?"

"He's posted a couple of times on the Richard Castle website, complimenting me on the depth of my research. I figured he'd welcome the chance to get involved as a consultant, so I had Black Pawn pave the way."

Colonel Fortis stands up from his desk chair and extends a hand as Rick and Kate enter his office. "Mr. Castle, Detective Beckett, a pleasure. The writer and his muse. I'll admit the Derrick Storm books have been a guilty pleasure of mine for many years, and I am enjoying Nikki Heat as well. Now, Mr. Castle, as I understand it, you are featuring a plotline involving drones in your next Storm adventure, and I appreciate that you would like to make it as accurate as possible. I can't reveal anything classified, of course, but I can give you a general overview of the drone program. Please, both of you have a seat."

"Colonel," Castle begins, "I'm particularly interested in the drone control systems. The software must be complex, and of course, it would have to be secure."

Fortis pales as he answers. "It is both, I can assure you. The DOD has some of the best coders in the world. The Air Force also ran extensive simulations and testing before we put the program into action."

"So, it would not be realistic for me to create a bad actor who could take control of one of our drones?"

"It would not be realistic at all, Mr. Castle. The protections are quite strong, and we upgrade them regularly."

"Good to know, Colonel," Castle acknowledges. "I'll plot my story accordingly."

* * *

"Did you see the look on Fortis' face when you brought up the software controlling the drones?" Kate asks as soon as she's driven clear of the base.

"I'd give up on playing poker if I missed it," Castle declares. "It sounds like whatever upgrades they did didn't happen soon enough. Could Tanner have known that there was a problem and been ready to post it on his website?"

"Castle, you really think our military would take out one of our own? They're probably going crazy trying to figure out what happened themselves. Wouldn't it be more likely that whoever discovered the potential for a breach found out that Tanner was going to reveal it and took him out before he could put it on the web?"

"Either way, it was death by drone, Kate, and whether Stack's people are trying to uncover the truth for themselves or suppress it, they're unlikely to let it see the light of day. We need to find the hacker."

"Easier said than done, Babe."


	83. Chapter 83

Too Close

Chapter 83

Castle strokes the stubble sprouting on his jaw. "Maybe not as hard as you think. Remember Del Lipchitz?"

"Your Mountain Dew Kickstart and pastrami loving computer guru?"

"The very one. He found Jane Chen for us. He might have an idea about who's capable of hacking drone controls."

"It's worth a try, Babe," Kate acknowledges.

"Great, we can swing by the deli on the way."

* * *

Del takes a healthy bite of his sandwich and uses a paper napkin to dab spicy mustard from his upper lip. "Hacking drones. That's got to be Simon Warburg. He contracted with the DOD to develop auto-control software for them, so the military could eliminate human pilots. But he had an awakening of sorts. I don't know the details, but he sabotaged the software he was supposed to be perfecting. The FBI has been after him ever since. Months ago, one of their agents came to see me wanting to know where Warburg is."

"And do you know?' Kate asks.

"At the time he asked, I had no idea, but I got curious. Warburg puts out messages under the alias, 'Penance.' He started out, raging against slaughtered villagers in Afghanistan, and lately, he's concentrated on the casualties from the conflict between Yemen and the Saudis. But I can't see him killing anyone. He's in hiding for trying to prevent what he sees as tragic deaths."

"Where do you think he's holed up?" Castle wonders.

"I analyzed the weather in a message he sent from outdoors. It matched up with Southern New Jersey, close to the Pennsylvania border. I couldn't get a more exact location than that, but I can give you a file of his postings. Maybe you and Kate can pick up clues of your own."

Kate beams at Del. "Thanks. Having New Jersey as a starting point is worth a lot."

"Just be ready to comfort your fiancé when he gets my bill," Del advises.

Kate leans into Castle's side. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

Castle regards the video on his laptop as Warburg rants against the evils of artificial intelligence eliminating the human factor. "The man has a point. How many times do we curse the brainlessness of autocorrect on our phones every day? And its glitchiness doesn't kill anyone — at least I hope not. But without human control of deadly weaponry, who knows what could happen?" Castle points at the screen. "Hey, look! Warburg's into collecting books. That's a first edition of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley in the bookcase behind him. And I'm spotting Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984, too. Those august tomes fit with what Del told us."

"Castle, if Warburg ran from the feds, he wouldn't have been able to cart a bunch of books with him," Kate points out.

"You're right. He must have reconstituted his collection wherever he landed. Buying them online would have been too easy to trace. There must be a used bookstore nearby, and sadly there aren't many of those anymore. It shouldn't be too hard to track down one in South Jersey, but," he consults the time in the corner of the screen, "most shopkeepers will have long closed their establishments by this hour. We should get a fresh start in the morning."

"And get Ryan to help us. If there's a facial recognition result on Dale's park rendezvous, he should have it by now. He'll be ready for a new project." Combing her fingers into his hair, Kate drapes herself across Castle's lap. "And in the meantime, we can work on a private project of our own."

Kicking away his chair, Castle lifts her in his arms. "Or a project involving our privates?"

Kate touches the tip of her tongue to his lips. "Exactly what I had in mind."

Striding the few feet to the bedroom, Castle tumbles Kate onto the bed and quickly follows, tugging at the buttons of his shirt as she pulls her top over her head to reveal the black lace of her bra. His fingers rapidly undo the front clasp to uncover the invitation beneath.

Rick's lips bring the pink buds to attention in turn, before working their way down to a more intimate destination, as Kate kicks free of her slacks. She gasps as Castle's mouth finds its mark, writhing beneath him as he sheds his jeans. "Kate, touch me."

Grasping his firm flesh, she can feel his skin heating beneath her fingers. Her own movements grow wilder and more desperate. "Rick!"

More than ready to answer her plea, he thrusts himself into her slick velvet sheath. The bed moans in sympathy with their efforts, as the spread tangles beneath them, the pattern of the nubby fabric imprinting itself on their bare bodies.

Kate's legs rise of their own volition, her knees flanking her head to allow Rick deeper access. His breath catches in his chest as Kate's cresting tide brings him to an answering climax. Falling sideways together, they lay, waiting for the world around them to rematerialize.

* * *

Castle draws in a deep breath as he and Kate enter the Literary Legacy bookstore in Lambertville, New Jersey. Can you smell that? It's the irresistible scent of time-honored tales."

"Not all of them are that time-honored, Castle. Look, he's got copies of Frozen Heat."

Rick picks up one of his novels from the bargain bin, shaking his head. "Fifty percent off."

A bespectacled gentleman smiles at Castle. "I'm the proprietor, Myron Mayblee. I recognize you from your photograph, Mr. Castle. That's a good book, but with contemporary fiction, my customers quickly move onto the next volume. I assume you will be coming out with another one shortly."

"Black Pawn wouldn't have it any other way," Castle confides. "But we're here on another matter."

"Ah, yes, you and your muse, the indomitable Detective Beckett. Would your visit have anything to do with the call I received from a Detective Ryan?"

"It would," Kate confirms. "You have a customer who purchased Huxley and Orwell's first editions?"

Mayblee cleans his glasses in a linen handkerchief. "I do indeed, a Mr. Smith. He comes into town about once a week."

Kate holds up her phone with a screengrab from Warburg's video. "Is this him?"

Mayblee nods. "That's Mr. Smith. He picks up groceries at the market down the street and checks in with me for any new additions to my stock."

"So, he doesn't live in Lambertville?" Kate queries.

"I don't believe so. Most of my customers walk, but he rides his bicycle in. From the coating of dust on it, I would say he traverses a dirt road somewhere along his journey."

"That's very observant and helpful, Mr. Mayblee. Anything else you can tell us?" Kate presses.

"I'm afraid not. Other than his preferences in collectibles, Mr. Smith hasn't shared anything about himself. But I was wondering, Mr. Castle, as long as you're here, could you sign a few books? You have fans in Lambertville who would scoop them up — no discount required."

"I'd be more than happy to do that, Mr. Mayblee," Castle grins.

Outside Literary Legacy, Castle studies a Google Earth map of the area around Lambertville. "I see a property that has to be Warburg's hideaway, Kate. It's the only one around here with a dirt road leading into it. I can't make out many details on my phone screen, but the place doesn't look like it's in great shape."

"Could be it was abandoned and Warburg's squatting," Kate considers. "Or maybe Warburg picked it up cheap using a phony identity. Either way, we should get out there."


	84. Chapter 84

Too Close

Chapter 84

Castle squints at the rough-hewn sign on a dilapidated wooden gate. "No trespassing, strictly enforced. I wonder if Warburg has dogs or something?"

"I don't see any pawprints or hear any barking," Kate notes. "This fence isn't strong enough to keep a Chihuahua in. I'll be damned if it's going to keep us out."

Rick gazes skeptically at the open expanse ahead of them. "All right, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Castle, I have my service weapon and my backup. I even have pepper spray. And you heard Del, Warburg doesn't want innocent people to get hurt."

"He may not consider trespassers innocent, but lead the way. I've got your back."

The rickety gate creaks as Kate pulls it open and starts down a barely marked path. "See, no dogs, no armed guards. The sign is just a …"

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Castle looks up to spot the source of buzzing overhead. "Kate, it's a drone — and not the version they sell for Christmas at Best Buy. That's almost a full-sized airplane and…"

The sound of gunfire fills the air as the drone dives. Crouching, Kate pulls her gun and aims at the source of the shots. Castle ducks as the drone swoops in, reaching for the small weapon Kate keeps in her ankle holster. "Damn! I feel like I'm in a scene from North by Northwest except there's no director around to yell cut." Castle fires upward, and the drone plummets, crashing in scrubby grass.

Kate swipes her arm across her forehead. "Good shot, Babe."

"All those hours keeping you company on the shooting range were good for something. I don't hear another drone."

Kate starts down the path again. "Neither do I. Let's find Warburg."

* * *

From the doorway of a tumbledown house, Warburg gestures angrily at Castle. "That was my best drone!"

"It was shooting at us!" Castle protests. "And anyway, how do you know I was the one who shot it down?"

Warburg rolls his eyes and hisses his exasperation. "It has a camera. How else would I fly it? And it was shooting blanks," Warburg argues, "you were in no danger. I was just trying to keep you away, but I suppose it was inevitable that the feds would find me sooner or later."

Kate holds up her badge. "We're not feds, Mr. Warburg. I'm Detective Kate Beckett from the N.Y.P.D., and this is Mr. Castle."

"Oh right, I've seen the pulp Castle turns out. Personally, I prefer literature. Aren't you a long way from your jurisdiction, Detective Beckett?"

"We're investigating the death of Dale Tanner. Do you know who he was, Mr. Warburg?"

Warburg's front teeth dig into his bottom lip. "Dale's dead? I didn't know. I buy the local paper once a week when I pick up supplies, but I ignore most of what's posted on the net, and I don't listen to news broadcasts. They're mostly propaganda anyway. How?"

"He was sitting in his car, and a drone dropped a bomb in his lap," Kate replies. "We believe the drone was hacked and are hoping that you'd be able to tell us how that could be accomplished."

"I may be the only one who can," Warburg responds, trembling slightly. "You might as well come in. I'll explain." Warburg leads the way into a room containing his computer system. "This is behind layers of firewalls, and I log every ping. My code is secure."

"What does your code have to do with Dale Tanner's death?" Kate presses.

"I wrote the code for a program to hijack drones."

"Why would you do that?" Castle asks.

"Let me show you something," Warburg responds, rapidly typing on a keyboard. "This is a video taken by the camera on a drone — a human-piloted drone — of a road in Afghanistan. The drone was on a mission to take out terrorists known to be running caravans in the area. But the pilot pulled back and never fired at that line of vehicles. Do you know why?"

Castle shakes his head.

Warburg freezes the video and points at the lead car. "You see those red dots? They're roses. This wasn't a terrorist caravan; it was a wedding procession. If the pilot hadn't realized that, the bride and groom would have never lived to say their vows. The DOD wants to fly drones without any human controls, dumb robots that couldn't tell a rose from a blood spatter. I was writing the software when I saw this footage, and I knew that I couldn't let the project go forward. I stopped it for a while, but I knew that they'd get it going again, so I developed a program to keep anyone from pursuing drone warfare."

"What did Dale Tanner have to do with that?" Kate prods.

"I sent him the program. I wanted him to use his website to release it to the world, but he refused. He said that the wrong people would get their hands on it and use it to kill the innocents I was trying to protect."

Air whistles through Castle's tight lips. "Looks like he was right."

"Tanner wouldn't have used the program against himself. Who else did you send a copy to?" Kate queries.

"No one," Warburg insists. "I only sent it to Dale." The sound of vehicles approaching penetrates the walls of the house. "Damn! You did bring the feds."

Kate looks out the window at a line of black SUVs. "Stack must have had us followed."

* * *

"I congratulate you on your ingenuity, Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle. I knew you would never give up and could lead us to Warburg," Stack confesses as the handcuffed programmer is loaded into an SUV.

"The FBI couldn't find Warburg, so you used us as hounds to track him down," Castle accuses.

"Which was obviously a good decision on my part," Stack returns. "And I do appreciate your roles in closing this case."

"Then I have news for you," Castle informs the agent, "the case isn't closed. Warburg didn't do it."

"Castle may be right," Kate interjects. "Warburg may not be the only one who could redirect that drone."

"Detective Beckett," Stack declares, "unless you have some hard evidence implicating another player, Warburg is our suspect."

Castle slams his palm against the dash of Beckett's unit as she starts the drive back to New York. "This bites, Kate. I'm sure Warburg didn't kill Tanner. After the story about the roses, I don't see how he could have it in him."

"You could be right, Babe, but we don't have a case against anyone else."

"Kate, we never followed up on the woman Dale had his tête à tête with, in the park. And we don't know who else Tanner might have given the program to."

"You're right, Castle. We should have been looking at this case the way we usually work a homicide — start with the victim's close contacts and work out. We figure out who would have known about the program and also wanted Dale dead. When we get back to the precinct, we'll redo the murder board and start from scratch with whatever Ryan got on Dale's mystery woman." Kate colors as her stomach emits a loud growl.

"Maybe we should stop for something to eat," Castle suggests. "It's going to be hours before we get back to New York, and if we don't feed you, we'll have a noisy trip. Ooh! There's a sign for one of those places with the great nut logs. We can grab a meal and bring one back to the 12th to energize the boys."

Kate's stomach rumbles again. "I guess we should."


	85. Chapter 85

Too Close

Chapter 85

Sighing, Kate takes a second bite of her burger. "This is great, but I don't know about those nut logs, Babe. They look like they've been on display since last Christmas."

Rick dips a french fry in a pool of ketchup. "You may have a point, but the pies are freshly baked. I can smell the deliciousness wafting from the kitchen. We could bring the boys a couple of those. You think they're more into apple or cherry? Or maybe…" Castle's cell bleeps an email alert. "Kate, it's from Gene Tree. One of my relatives replied to my message."

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"Yeah, but all of a sudden, my fries are doing a Mexican hat dance in my stomach."

Kate reaches across the table to take Rick's hand. "Go for it, Babe."

Castle slowly grins as he reads the text. "Her name is Marie Descoine, and she lives in Cambridge. She says she's wondered if we're related because her younger brother can wiggle his scalp the way she saw me do it on Letterman. Her grandfather came down to Massachusetts from Quebec so that he could attend MIT, and never left. He worked on programming the virtual turtles that were early creations of the university's artificial intelligence lab."

"That could explain where your love of gadgets comes from."

"Maybe," Castle considers. "It doesn't come from Mother. She has a love-hate relationship with the juicer, and Alexis had to set up a Facebook account for her. There's more here. Marie has an uncle whom she remembers being able to do my little maneuver too, but she hasn't seen him in over 40 years. Wow! Could that be my father? He didn't do it while we were in Paris, but then neither did I. We had more important things on our minds. I wonder if there are any family pictures? I'm going to ask her. Maybe she can bring them to our wedding."

"So, you're going to invite her?"

"I'm going to invite her whole family — my family. If they come, they can counterbalance your Aunt Theresa's horde."

"Don't get your hopes up, Castle," Kate counsels. "So far, all you have is an email."

"True," Castle acknowledges, "but if curiosity also runs in the family, there will be more." After stowing his phone in his pocket, he reaches for another fry.

"No more hat dance?" Kate inquires.

"I believe," Castle declares, "that the sombrero has left the building."

* * *

In the breakroom, Ryan offers Kate a file while Castle cuts generous wedges of cherry pie. Kate grabs the folder as Ryan picks up a paper plate with a gooey slice, and scans the entries. "Monica Lane. She works for a fracking company?"

Ryan pauses a moment to swallow. "Right. Tanner wrote an exposé on a swarm of earthquakes caused by their activities."

"Hardly a reason for her to cozy up to him," Castle notes, "unless she was trying to get some dirt to discredit him. Maybe while he was in a post-assignation haze, she managed to get into his computer and stole his program."

Kate spears a cherry attempting to escape a flaky crust. "We're going to find out."

* * *

Monica Lane squirms uncomfortably under Kate's gaze. "I don't know a Dale Tanner.

Kate pushes an 8X10 print from the park surveillance video across the table. "This says that you do."

"And you would appear to be pretty close, um, friends," Castle adds.

"All right, so Dale and I were having an affair," Monica admits. "So what? People have affairs all the time."

"But men like Tanner don't usually have them with women working for companies they abhor. And women don't usually have affection for men who can put them out of a job. So who did Dale think you were, and why did you play up to him?" Castle demands.

"He thought I was a tree-hugging secretary who could get him further information. And I played up to him to keep my job. As you pointed out, Dale was trying to drive my employer out of business. I needed to stop him."

"So, you stole the program that led to his death?" Kate accuses.

"What? No. I didn't steal anything. I don't know about any program. I just kept him distracted until I could dig up something that would make him lay off."

"Looks like you don't have to worry about that now," Castle remarks.

"Can you think of anyone who would have had access to Tanner's computer equipment?" Kate queries.

"He mentioned an assistant of sorts, a grad student named Omar," Monica recalls. "And of course, his family would have been able to get at it."

"What can you tell us about Omar?" Kate presses. "Did you get his last name?"

Monica shrugs. "Sorry. About the only thing Dale said was that the guy was pushing for a raise, but Dale couldn't afford it. His website has subscribers, but I think his wife brings in more money than he did."

Castle's eyes harden. "So while the woman is working to support her family, you sleep with her husband so you can betray him too. Nice."

"She isn't the only one who has to make a living," Monica retorts.

* * *

Sean Tanner's eyes flash with anger as he answers the door of the Tanner home. "You should leave my mother alone. Haven't you brought her enough grief?"

"We're trying to find out who killed your father, Sean," Kate replies softly. "Perhaps you can help us. Do you know your father's assistant, Omar?"

"Yeah, I met him a few times when he was working with my father. He showed me a few programming tricks. Do you think Omar had something to do with my dad's death?"

"We just need to talk to him," Kate explains. "Would you know his full name?"

"Omar Dixon. He takes classes at Hudson U. They should know where to find him."

* * *

"Detective Beckett," Jared Stack calls from the elevator as the doors open on the bullpen. "We checked out Warburg's alibi for Tanner's death. You and Castle were right. At the time the pilot of the drone lost control, Warburg was at the market in Lambertville, sounding off about the mistreatment of workers who pick lettuce. There's no way he could have done it. So, I need you to give me everything you've got."

"You could try asking politely," Castle suggests.

"I'm sure that the N.Y.P.D. wants to nail Tanner's killer just as much as the DHS does," Stack counters.

"We do," Kate concedes. "Our primary suspect is an Omar Dixon. We're checking for a location on him now."

Esposito slams the receiver of his desk phone into its cradle. "Bad news, Beckett. Omar Dixon dropped his classes due to illness in his family in Iran. According to the airline, he boarded a flight that took off 30 minutes ago. No way we can get our hands on him now."

"You're discounting the power of a 900-pound gorilla," Stack responds smugly, retreating toward the lounge. "I need to make a call."

"Do you think that jerk can get a plane turned around?" Ryan wonders.

"If he can, I don't care if he's a jerk," Kate responds. "We can accept the help, but we're still the ones who uncovered Omar's access to Tanner's equipment. You guys head for the airport, just in case Stack can pull this off. Castle and I will let you know if Stack's got a gorilla or 'George of the Jungle."'

"Hey, I like those cartoons," Castle protests, as the two detectives grab their jackets. "You want to hear my vine-swinging yell?"

Kate brushes her lips against his ear, whispering, "Maybe later."


	86. Chapter 86

Too Close

Chapter 86

"This is profiling," Omar complains from his seat in interrogation. "You cops had no right to get me off that plane."

"Apparently, the Attorney General disagrees with you, Omar," Kate informs him. "It doesn't take any profiling to pick up a suspect heading for a country with no diplomatic relations or extradition treaty with the U.S.."

"Particularly when said suspect had access to the murder weapon," Castle adds.

"My mother is in Iran. She has cancer, and I need to go see her before the end. I had every reason to be on that plane," Omar protests. "And what murder weapon? I do maintenance on websites. I maintained Dale Tanner's, and I maintain several others. I'm no jihadi radical, and I've never been near a weapon."

"You wouldn't have had to go near the one that killed Dale Tanner," Kate points out. "It was controlled by a program, a program that Dale Tanner received from its designer."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Omar retorts. "Dale gave me the copy for his posts. I upgraded its SEO, that's search engine optimization. I made sure his links were operational and kept his operating system and his anti-malware up to date. If he loaded a program, I didn't see it. But people send stuff on thumb drives to the p.o. box of the Whistleblowers Anonymous website. Dale kept the drives in a shielded drawer in his desk. I didn't even have a key."

Kate leans across the table. "Who did?"

Omar combs his fingers through his hair. "Obviously Dale did, but I think his son Sean did too. He checked out some of the wilder material for his father. He said he thought Dale should be spending more time with Beth, his wife, so he wanted to take some of the load."

"So Sean has expertise with programming?" Kate questions.

"I wouldn't call it expertise, he's a freshman in Computer Science. He has a lot to learn about coding," Omar asserts, "but sit him in front of a keyboard, and he can make almost any decently constructed software run. Now please, I need to get out of here. I have to find another flight to Iran before it's too late."

"We'll check your story, Omar, and if it tracks, we'll get you on a plane," Kate promises.

"Do you believe him?" Castle asks Kate after L.T. leads Omar to a holding cell."

Kate shoves a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know, Babe. He didn't show any of the usual tells of lying, but why would Sean kill his father?"

Castle closes his eyes to visualize a scenario. "One of Sean's professors cancels class, so he arrives home unexpectedly. Maybe he wants to go over the contents of some of the drives his father received or raid the refrigerator. Even as he is unlocking the door, he can hear sounds from the master bedroom.

"For a moment, he wonders if his mother took a well-deserved day off, and she and his father are making the most of it. But then, he detects a whiff of perfume that isn't his mother's signature scent. He makes his way inside as quietly as he can.

"The bedroom door is only open a crack, but it's enough for Sean to see Dale Tanner with Monica Lane. He's furious and tempted to confront his father then and there, but he remembers the program his father received. Sean won't need any weapon but a keyboard to make Dale pay for his sins and free Beth to seek a man worthy of her.

"Sean plans carefully, telling his father that a source of information on massive governmental misconduct wants to meet with him at a specific place and time, a time that matches up with the schedule of the regular drone flights that observers on social media have been tracking. With Dale away from his office and Beth at work, Sean launches the final blow at his father, using the adulterer's own equipment to do the deed. He returns to Hudson U to attend his classes until he receives your call. Then the dutiful son returns home to comfort his grieving mother."

"In a twisted way that all makes sense, Castle," Kate acknowledges, "but how do we prove it?"

"Kate, ever since a frat that formerly maintained a house at Hudson University, decided that assaulting coeds would be part of their initiation ceremonies, the school has had surveillance cameras all over campus. I checked out the security when Alexis took a summer course there."

A smile teases Kate's lips. "Of course you did."

"Anyway," Castle continues, "it should be possible to track Sean's movements on and off university grounds. I didn't see an extra car at the Tanner home when he was there, and the subway is only three blocks away. That must be how he travels. He would have been caught on below-ground cameras too. If need be, we could ask Stack if the techs at the DHS have uncovered any of Sean's tracks on Dale's equipment."

Kate shakes her head, her errant lock of hair re-finding her face. "Not if we can avoid it. Sean knew his father's computer and probably figured out how to conceal any evidence of what he did, anyway. Otherwise, assuming you're right about Sean, Stack would be out ahead of us. I'll get Ryan and Esposito on the traffic cams and getting more background on Sean, and you and I can concentrate on Hudson University."

"In a way, I hope I'm wrong," Castle confesses. "It's bad enough for Beth Tanner to lose her husband, even if he was cheating on her. But if she has to watch her son go to jail..." Castle's eyes squeeze shut. "After seeing Alexis in a cage, I can imagine the agony she'll feel."

Kate lays her hand on Rick's arm. "That's how it is with murders, Babe; the deceased is rarely the only victim."

Rick wraps his arms around Kate as her face presses against his chest. "That's why you're so good at solving them. You understand the fallout better than most detectives ever could."

* * *

Marie Descoine rereads the message forwarded by Gene Tree. Richard Castle wants her and any other members of the family to come to his wedding. He's even offered to charter a plane to fly them to New York and to put them up at The Four Seasons. She'd assumed that he would want to talk on the phone or set up a Skype, but she hadn't expected this. She's never been to the wedding of a celebrity, not even a minor one, and she's looking forward to the adventure. But she has a lot of calls to make. The rest of the family may not be as excited as she is.

* * *

Hunt scans the report of the email traffic of the Descoines. He can't remember the last time he was mentioned, but there's a reference to him now. It's in a message from his niece Marie that was forwarded to Richard. His son is getting close to uncovering his true identity. The boy's sharp. It was inevitable that it would happen sooner or later. Maybe Hunt's been in the cold too long, and it's time to change course. Making a successful exit will take a hell of a lot of preparation, but that's the case in every mission. He may just be able to pull this last one off.


	87. Chapter 87

Too Close

Chapter 87

Sean Tanner pulls at the skin of his lip as he waits in the stark room where Detective Beckett dumped him. He considers asking for a lawyer, but that would make him look guilty. And there's no way the cops can prove what happened. If there was anything his father was into, it was how to follow a trail. Sean used what he learned from the bastard to avoid leaving one. There's no way something will point to him, and he'll tell whatever lies it takes to maintain his innocence. He learned that from his father too. In the end, the cops will have to let him go.

Kate smacks a file folder on the surface of the metal table, next to a laptop, and takes a seat facing Sean. She can feel Stack's eyes watching her from observation. Castle drops into a chair beside her. "There are a few things we need to clear up about your father's death, Sean," she begins.

"I don't know much except that my mother's alone, and I should be home with her," Sean insists.

"I sent a victim's services worker to sit with her," Kate responds. "She's not alone. In any case, I'm sure that it will be of some comfort to her if we can solve your father's murder."

"What murder?" Sean protests. "It was a terrible accident, that's all. That's what the paper said. A thing crashed into his car. Tech stuff glitches all the time."

"Well, you would know that, wouldn't you, Sean?" Castle inserts. "You're a computer science major, aren't you?"

Sean shifts in his seat. "Sure, but I'm just a freshman. I haven't had any high-level classes yet."

"But you've had some extra instruction," Kate picks up. "You've gleaned a lot from your father, enough to know what's in the paper isn't always the whole story. And you told us you learned a few things from Omar Dixon too. He thinks you're pretty good with computers and that you can run almost any software put in front of you.

"The thing is, Sean, we know what was in front of you — a program you found on a drive in the drawer of your father's desk. You used it to hijack a drone and send it to kill your father."

"A technological update of the Oedipus myth," Castle suggests.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sean claims. "I was on the Hudson University campus when my father was killed."

"No, you weren't," Kate argues. She flips open the laptop, hits a few keys, and angles the screen toward Sean. "This is video of you leaving campus. And this," she adds, running her finger over the touchpad, "is you getting on the subway. We also have video of you getting off the subway at the stop near your house. And it's all timestamped, Sean. You were the only one with access to the program that took control of that drone, and you were in the right place to run it when he died."

"All right!" Sean exclaims, "but he deserved it. My mother works every day until she's ready to drop. He could have helped her. He could have gotten a decent job. Or he could have at least been faithful. But he was screwing another woman — in the bed he was supposed to share with my mother. I couldn't let him do that to her. I couldn't. Now he'll never screw anyone again."

Stack applauds as Kate leaves Interrogation. "Masterfully done, Detective. You know, your talents are wasted here. You could be so much more than a New York homicide cop. This country needs people with your skills."

"There are 8 million denizens of this country for Kate to serve in this city," Castle points out.

"Castle is right," Kate declares, "and he and I are planning to build a life together here."

"Then, Mr. Castle, you're a lucky man," Stack responds, pulling a card from his jacket and handing it to Kate. "The Attorney General is always looking for top-notch people. If you decide to widen your horizons, call that number."

Kate stuffs the card in her pocket. "I don't think that will be necessary, but I'll keep it in mind."

"Do you believe that guy?" Castle asks, watching Stack head for the elevator. "He tried to poach you from the N.Y.P.D. right in the middle of the precinct."

"He did," Kate agrees. "It was arrogant, but it was also kind of a compliment."

"Kate, you're not seriously thinking of calling about that job, are you?" Castle questions.

"Of course not, Babe. We're right in the middle of getting ready for our wedding. I love you, and I like New York, but since we nailed Bracken and the Mosses, I have been thinking about what will come next in my life — professionally. Stack did get me wondering what my next step should be, but," she continues, stretching up for a kiss, "I can think about that after we get hitched."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

"Are you serious about this, Hunt?" the director asks.

"Have you ever known me not to be serious?" Jackson queries. "Look, pretty soon, my son is going to know me as more than the spy father he met in Paris. Contact is going to be inevitable. That means putting him and the rest of the members of my family he's managed to discover, in danger. My granddaughter has already suffered because of her link to me. Volkov is gone, but as long as I'm an active agent, there is always the chance that someone else will take a shot at someone I care about. I need to assume a new legend and retire all the others that I've had."

"You're not only going to need a new background and your DNA and fingerprints expunged from any records, but your appearance will also have to change enough to defeat facial recognition," the director points out.

"I know," Hunt acknowledges. "My son will no longer be able to recognize me, but I can deal with that. I want to get the process underway as soon as possible."

"Very well," the director agrees. "I'll set the wheels turning, and make sure that your pension and hazard pay are transferred to accounts for your new identity."

Hunt nods. "I appreciate it."

* * *

"So how many Descoines are going to be showing up for our wedding?" Kate asks.

"According to Marie Descoine, five," Castle answers. "She's coming, and so is her scalp wiggling brother. Her parents have passed on, but three curious cousins want to make the trip."

"No mention of the uncle you thought could be your father?" Kate questions.

"Uh-uh, but I didn't expect there would be. He said he didn't want to put us in danger with any more direct contact, and I took him at his word. Still, it would be nice if he found a way to meet up with us again someday — without vicious Russian agents out for our skins. There is a lot I want to know, and I imagine that the adventures he's had over the past four decades could fill a shelf of novels — better ones than Casino Royale."

Kate cups Castle's cheek. "I have no doubt. And I've learned one thing about our lives. Something unexpected is always popping up."

Castle smiles as he covers Kate's hand with his own. "You've got that right. We'll never lack for excitement — professional or personal."


	88. Chapter 88

Too Close

Chapter 88

From his office, Castle can hear Alexis' feet stomping through the front door. He knows he's in trouble. He'd promised he'd send off a check to pay for her trip to Costa Rica, but he hadn't been able to force his hand to sign it. After Paris, it's hard enough having her a 20-minute cab ride away. To have her out of the country again makes him shudder every time he thinks about it.

Alexis stares down at Rick. "Dad!"

Castle sheepishly meets her gaze. "The check. I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm…"

"Afraid," his daughter fills in. "I am too, Dad. I still have nightmares about the cage, Volkov — everything. And I know you want to protect me. But you did, from something a lot worse than anything that could happen while I'm touring ecological sites. And I can't let what happened in Paris limit me, no matter how scary it will be to travel again. I won't let your fear hold me back either."

"Message received," Castle acknowledges, pulling his checkbook out of a drawer. "Just promise me you'll stay in touch — a phone call a day to keep the demons at bay."

"I'm not sure how good the cell service will be where we're going, but I'll do my best," Alexis promises. She inclines her head toward Castle's open laptop. "What have you been doing besides obsessing over my trip?"

"Working on a new Derrick Storm. I'm basing Derrick's father on your newly discovered grandfather, but I'm making him ex-FBI. I've been researching some details about the bureau, and figuring out how they connect to something a DHS agent said to Kate."

"From the look on your face, I'm guessing that whatever he said, you didn't like it."

"I didn't like him. He's an arrogant bas — jerk. But I'm not sure I liked Kate's reaction, either. He started her thinking about doing something even loftier than being the best homicide cop in the city. I like things the way they are. I like being her partner and solving crimes together."

"Everything changes, Dad," Alexis reminds Rick. "You and Kate are going to take the biggest step in your lives when you get married. If she decides she wants to move up from being a detective, the two of you will work it out. You've worked out more complicated things than that."

Rick grins at his daughter. "How did you get so smart?"

"You must have passed down a few genes from your father. He did figure out how he could blow up a Russian spy and his nest of thugs with just you and Kate to help him. Maybe they skipped a generation before showing up again," she teases.

"Watch it, Pumpkin! Go give my check to your professor before I change my mind."

"On my way." Alexis waves a greeting at a heavily burdened Kate as they pass each other at the threshold to the loft.

Castle scrutinizes the collection of bags his fiancée brings in. "You've been busy."

"Lanie and I almost never have a day off at the same time. Today we did, so she insisted on helping me shop for a trousseau. She found a little boutique on Broadway where everything looked perfect for me. We might have gone a little overboard."

"No way that getting beautiful things for the incredibly gorgeous love of my life could be going overboard," Castle asserts. "And my joy in seeing you in them will only be eclipsed by my pleasure in getting you out of them."

Kate swings a tote against his shin. "Good to know that you have your priorities straight. What was Alexis doing here?"

"Prying the funding for her mission to Costa Rica out of my hesitant hands. Once she makes up her mind, she's not about to be dissuaded."

"Good for her. I know the idea of her leaving New York makes you nervous. You've mentioned it 30 or 40 times. But she has to get back on the horse, Babe, just like I did after I was shot. And her therapist thinks it's a good idea for Alexis to go, doesn't she?"

"That's what Alexis told me. She's not a minor anymore. Anything she says to Dr. Granger goes no further unless she wants it to. The shrink doesn't spill secrets to nosy fathers."

"You're not nosy; you're concerned. And I'll be around to hold your hand, or at least pace the floor with you, while you wait for Alexis to call."

"You know me too well."

Kate winks. "I still find new Castle-quirks to discover."

"Only fair, as I continue to peel ever more fascinating layers from the Kate Beckett onion."

* * *

"We can make most of the changes you need with implants in your cheeks and chin," plastic surgeon Dr. Lutz explains to Hunt. "That will modify your biometrics enough to defeat recognition software. Your healing should be relatively fast, and the pain should be minor."

"I don't give a damn about the pain. How long before I can get back on the street?" Hunt demands.

"You may still have some swelling and bruising, but you can return to a normal routine a couple of weeks after surgery."

Hunt nods. "Good. Let's get started."

* * *

Kate's cell buzzes as she's putting away the last of her finds. She puts it on speaker. "Beckett, I know you're supposed to be off today," Esposito acknowledges, "but Ryan and I thought you'd want to hear about the case we just picked up. Castle should like this one, too. The residents of a rent-by-the-week establishment had blood coming out of their faucets. Turns out, there was a body in the water tower. You want in?"

"Text me the address," Kate instructs.

Castle gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

* * *

Ryan meets Beckett and Castle in the hall outside the victim's room. "According to the manager, the victim's name is Crystal Sky." He holds up his phone, displaying the image of a sodden corpse. "Perlmutter's already been here. As usual, he said he'd have to get the body to the lab to definitively establish the COD, but that it didn't look like a drowning."

"Pink hair and sexy clothes. I doubt that Crystal Sky was her real name. Hooker?" Kate inquires.

"That's what most of the residents said. They reported hearing sounds of the girl doing, uh, very personal business, coming from her room."

"She wasn't a prostitute!" A young man announces from behind them.

Kate swivels to face him. "And you are?"

"Ziff Falgrad. Crystal had the room next to mine. She wasn't hooking. She was a programmer or something. She spent a lot of time on her computer. She was a nice person. She looked up some things for me on the web, movies, and stuff. This dump doesn't have much, but it has free Wi-Fi."

"CSU hasn't been through Crystal's room yet, but Esposito and I did a preliminary sweep," Ryan reports. "We didn't see a computer."

"Well, she had one," Ziff insists. "And I know she wasn't screwing anyone."

"How would you know that?" Kate inquires.

Sweat beads Ziff's forehead as his face reddens. "I just know."

"You were watching her, weren't you?" Castle guesses. "You have a peephole in the wall or maybe in your closet?"

"I didn't make the hole," Ziff swears, "It was there when I rented my room and maintenance hasn't fixed it. I wasn't spying on Crystal, just making sure she was all right." He stares at the floor. "I wish I saw whoever killed her. You'll get the sonofabitch, right?"

"That's what we're here for," Kate declares.


	89. Chapter 89

Too Close

Chapter 89

"Detective Beckett," Tori Ellis calls from Tech, "I have the video footage from the elevator at the hotel. It shows your victim going to the basement and then to the roof."

"She might have been going to the laundry room," Kate considers, as she and Castle join Tori.

Tori freezes an image and points. "She doesn't have any laundry going down."

"But she does have a laptop," Castle notes.

"Run it forward," Kate requests.

Castle grimaces at some of the elevator activities of the hotel's tenants. "Eww. Can you run it forward any faster? There!" he shouts suddenly as the images speed across the screen. "Crystal doesn't have her laptop when she returns from the basement. She must have been afraid that someone would find something on it and hidden it down there someplace before she met her end on the roof."

"That laptop could be the key to everything," Kate realizes. "Perlmutter's preliminary report said she had something under her fingernails. He's having CSU analyze it, but he thought it looked like creosote. Maybe Crystal was in the boiler room. I'll send the boys to look for the computer. Perlmutter sent that image of a tattoo on Crystal's back. The art looked unique. If we can track down the artist, we may get a clue to Crystal's real identity."

"I think I might have seen something like it before," Castle offers, "on that reality show where tattoo artists vie for 'Top Inker.' If I recall, it was the work of a woman with a nom de guerre of 'Fleshtones.' If she was going to that much trouble to promote herself, she has to have a website where potential clients can reach her."

Kate motions Castle back to the bullpen. "Let's find out."

* * *

Castle taps on the screen of Kate's computer. "That's her. Check out her showcase."

Kate scrolls through pages of tattoos before halting suddenly. "That's it! That's the tattoo Crystal had."

"Fleshtones is headquartered in the East Village," Castle observes.

Kate pushes back from her desk. "Let's go see her."

* * *

Fleshtones runs her fingers through multicolored spiky hair. "Yes, I remember my canvas for that design. She wasn't like most of my customers. She had no other tats and dressed Ivy League. I have her name in my records. I can get it for you."

"I'd appreciate that," Kate responds. While Fleshtones retreats to a back room, Kate surveys the art displayed on the walls of the tattoo parlor. "Babe, what would you think about my getting another tattoo?"

"I find the reminder of your motorcycle chick days titillating enough on the existing work of art that is Kate Beckett. Any further adornment would be gilding an already perfect lily, but it's your skin. I'll endeavor to appreciate any further decoration you choose."

"That's sweet, but looking at them, I don't think any of these would go with the wedding gown I have in mind."

"You found one?" Castle queries.

"There was a bridal salon down the block from the boutique where Lanie and I went shopping, and I picked up some ideas," Kate explains. "Martha said she could have her favorite costume designer run up whatever I have in mind."

"Well, good for Mother!" Castle exclaims. "Another hurdle removed from our path to wedded bliss."

A returning Fleshtones holds out a computer printout. "Her name is Erika Albrook. This was her credit card information."

Kate takes the sheet of paper. "Thank you. You've been very helpful."

"You're welcome," Fleshtones responds, and if any other cops you know want a tattoo, send them to me. I love doing law-enforcement art."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kate promises.

* * *

Kate stares at the background information she's pulled on Erika Albrook. "Wow, Castle, this makes no sense. Erika Albrook was an honors student at Harvard. What the hell was she doing in a seedy hotel dressed like a hooker and using the sound effects disc CSU found in her room to make it seem like she was turning tricks?"

Triumphantly holding a laptop aloft, Esposito steps off the elevator, followed closely by Ryan. "We found it!"

"But it's password-protected," Ryan adds.

"We can put Tori to work on that," Kate decides. "Castle and I identified the victim, and we need to go see her mother."

* * *

Greta Albrook dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "I don't understand. Erika wasn't even supposed to be in New York. She told me she was going backpacking in Europe. That was her way of coping with the death of her best friend, Pam Bonner. Pam was interning at a law firm and killed on the way home from a company party. The police wrote it off as an accident, but Erika didn't believe it. She was very upset that no one looked into it further. Could that have had something to do with Erika's murder?"

"We don't know, Ms. Albrook," Kate confesses. "But we are going to do our best to find out."

A text dings on Kate's phone as she and Castle return to her unit. "Tori got into Erika's computer. Now maybe we can figure out why Erika was pretending to be Crystal."

Tori throws a spreadsheet up on the screen. "Erika was a hacker and a good one. She got into a law firm's protected files. This is a list of billable communications with a Colin Rigsdale."

"Erika's friend Pam was at a law firm," Castle recalls. "It all has to be related somehow."

"Who's the lawyer mentioned in the largest number of communications?" Kate queries.

Tori scrolls through the listings. "Ian Blaylock. And I found emails on the computer too. They ran through the day Erika died, but I didn't make a connection until now. They were with Blaylock."

Castle glances toward Kate. "So, our next step is talking to Blaylock?"

Kate heads for the door of Tech. "Got it in one, Castle."

* * *

Checking the number at the end of a long hall, Kate stops in front of an apartment. "This is Blaylock's place."

Castle screws up his face as he sniffs the air. "Ugh. Smell that? Something or someone died in there."

Kate pounds on the door. "Mr. Blaylock, N.Y.P.D. Are you all right?"

At the answering silence, Kate kicks in the door, revealing a body hanging from a hook in the ceiling.

* * *

"The late Mr. Blaylock didn't kill himself," Perlmutter declares, smugly indicating the body on an autopsy table. "The hanging was set up to disguise a strangling."

"So someone killed Erika and then killed Blaylock?" Rick asks.

"Wrong as usual, Castle," Perlmutter retorts. "Blaylock was killed first, at least two days earlier."

"Kate and I searched Blaylock's apartment. There was no computer there. The killer must have taken it and used it to write the final emails Tori found on Erika's machine," Castle guesses.

Kate nods. "We should go through them. Whoever killed Blaylock may have set up a meeting with Erika and killed her. And we'll need to investigate Colin Rigsdale. He's the link between Erika and Blaylock."

"That won't be easy," Castle opines. "I made acquaintance with members of the Rigsdale family at one of Weldon's political affairs. They're very wealthy and very well connected. They'll put an army of lawyers between you and Colin, probably from the firm that Erika hacked."

"Well then, maybe we should start with the lawyers," Kate proposes. "They need to be informed that their security has been breached."

"They do at that," Castle agrees.


	90. Chapter 90

Too Close

Chapter 90

"I can't believe our system was hacked!" Jessica Banks exclaims, looking over the shoulder of her system administrator. "How could you not catch it?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Banks," Izzy Goldfarb apologizes, "We had to update our operating system. That brought down our anti-malware for a few moments. We took care of our maintenance at 2 a.m., but whoever got in must have been waiting for an opportunity to breach. The hacker planted a keylogger and snagged all our passwords. I'm excising it now."

"It won't make any difference, Castle remarks. "The hacker is dead."

"We believe she was killed over something she found on your system, involving Ian Blaylock," Kate adds.

The lines in Jessica Banks' face deepen. "Ian is no longer with us. He became increasingly erratic, particularly concerning the affairs of one of our most important clients."

"Is that client Colin Rigsdale?" Kate questions.

"Our client list is confidential, Detective Beckett. I'm sure you understand that," Jessica responds.

"That boat has sailed," Ms. Banks," Kate informs her. "Ian Blaylock was murdered, and we're in possession of records of his communications with Rigsdale, obtained by the hacker. We have reason to believe that both deaths were related to Rigsdale and possibly to that of an intern at your firm, Pam Bonner."

"Quite a stack of bodies you're piling up," Castle comments.

"Pam Bonner was killed in an automobile accident," Jessica protests. "It had nothing to do with her work here."

"I had my people pull the records on that accident while Castle and I were on our way here," Kate reveals. "The official report indicates that Pam was driving and that Colin Rigsdale was a passenger. He walked away unharmed, but the police at the scene reported he was intoxicated.

"According to the autopsy, Pam Bonner had no alcohol in her blood. In addition, the car belonged to Rigsdale. Ian Blaylock's billable hours log shows that he received a call from Rigsdale immediately after the crash. Innocent men don't usually make their lawyer their first call after an accident.

"The investigating detective suspected that Rigsdale might have been driving, but had no hard evidence and bowed to pressure from above to close the case. But the hacker, Erika Albrook, knew Pam and didn't believe the official story."

Castle continues Kate's narration. "She penetrated your system in an attempt to uncover the truth. Erika's search cost two lives, hers and Ian Blaylock's."

"That's an interesting piece of conjecture, Mr. Castle. But as I made clear, Colin Rigsdale is a client, and any communication our firm had with him is privileged." Jessica motions dismissively toward the door. "I would suggest that you come back with a court order, Detective Beckett, assuming you can find a judge that will grant one. I sincerely doubt that you will."

"Was Banks right?" Castle asks as Kate settles grimly behind the wheel of her unit. "Is Colin Rigsdale shielded by privilege?"

Kate sighs. "Probably, or in any case, his lawyers can delay an investigation until he can cover his tracks. We need to go at this from another angle, look for any contact Blaylock had with Rigsdale after he left the firm and was no longer serving as Rigsdale's counsel. If Blaylock was trying to get Rigsdale to come clean, he might have dropped a hint about Erika."

"In which case Rigsdale would have killed Blaylock, then used what was on his computer to find and ultimately murder Erika," Castle concludes. "It all fits."

Kate turns the key in the ignition. "We just have to prove it."

* * *

"Bad news, Beckett," Esposito announces. "At the time of Erika Albrook's death, Colin Rigsdale was in North Carolina at a golf tournament. There's video and hundreds of witnesses."

"How about when Blaylock was killed?" Kate presses.

"No dice," Beckett," Ryan answers, "He was at pre-event parties. He posted pictures all over social media."

"As if he was trying to document an alibi," Castle speculates. "The Rigsdales are rich and powerful; he could have hired someone to do his dirty work. Families like that have fixers. We've seen that before. We have to figure out who the Rigsdales would trust enough to do the deeds and tell no tales."

Kate taps two fingers against her lips. "That would need to be someone who would have as much to lose if Colin was exposed, as Colin would."

"Right," Castle agrees. "You know, there's a grand dame in this city who exults in ferreting out the dirty little secrets of what she views as the nouveau riche, meaning families with fortunes acquired more recently than the Civil War. I believe that by that measure, the Rigsdales qualify as upstarts."

"Are you talking about Hattie Livingston?" Kate wonders.

"The pearl of high society herself, especially if you ask her," Castle confirms. "I think I can arrange a visit."

"Don't tell me she's a fan of your books."

"If she is, she'd never admit it. Hattie is, however," Castle adds, "a patron of the arts, particularly theater. She was quite taken by Mother's performance in the revival of 'Morning's at Seven,' and our family has been welcome at her functions ever since. I'll write a little script about correcting a miscarriage of justice perpetrated by an uncouth social climber and ask Mother to make the call. She'll enjoy the drama."

Kate shrugs. "It's worth a shot."

* * *

From a wing chair upholstered in rich brocade, Hattie Livingston reigns over her drawing-room, a sweep of her arm directing Kate and Rick to an antique settee. "The Livingstons have always supported the pursuit of justice. I'm pleased that you sought my assistance. The situation Martha described sounded most alarming."

"It is, Miss Livingston," Castle confirms. "We believe that influence was put to the worst of use — to enable the scion of the Rigsdale family to escape just punishment. Three deaths may be involved."

Hattie draws herself up, her watery blue eyes alert. "Yes, young Colin, always requiring help to get himself out of one scrape or another. Luther Rigsdale should have sent him off to military school years ago. Perhaps the boy would have learned the discipline necessary to behave appropriately in polite society."

"Just who is it that gets him out of his scrapes, Ma'am?" Kate inquires.

Hattie sniffs. "Attorneys, of course, but not from one of the more respectable firms. Colin also has a half-brother, the result of a scandalous liaison. Needless to say, the family doesn't publicize his existence or his activities, but they do keep him funded and busy. He would be your suspect for any unsavory activity. He goes by his mother's maiden name: Tillage, Martin Tillage."

Castle bounds down the stairs leading from the Livingston mansion to the opulently paved drive where Kate's unit is parked. "Kate! We questioned Martin Tillage. He was one of the residents at the hotel where Erika was murdered. The killer was hiding in plain sight."

"He's not going to hide anymore, Castle. We'll gather more background on him, and I'll have the boys bring him in. I'm betting he won't be at the hotel anymore, but he shouldn't be hard to track down. If Hattie Livingston can keep abreast of what he's doing, the N.Y.P.D. can find him."

"Or you could deputize Hattie," Castle suggests.

"Whatever it takes, Babe. Whether the Rigsdales protect him or not, if Martin Tillage killed Blaylock and Erika for Colin, he's going down. And Colin Rigsdale is going down with him."


	91. Chapter 91

Too Close

Chapter 91

Scooting his chair next to Kate's to share the view of her computer, Castle quickly scans the information on the screen. "Mr. Tillage has had quite a career — picked up for petty theft, destruction of public property, unauthorized use of a public vehicle, and assault."

"But without a single conviction," Kate notes. "It looks like the Rigsdales got him out of it every time, and assigned him to clean up Colin's messes. But murder is a big step up from anything we know he's done before."

"That's got to make him nervous," Castle guesses.

"But if he's still playing the part of the guy we met in a seedy hotel, unlikely to admit to having a lawyer on speed dial," Kate mulls. "That will be an advantage for us."

Rick rubs his hands together. "I'm looking forward to watching you masterfully exploit it."

* * *

Castle watches through the glass as Kate plops her leather folder on the table and takes her place in the box, coolly holding Tillage in her gaze. "So Martin, it looks like you've moved up in the world. The residents of the hotel where I saw you last would never be able to afford the apartment where my detectives found you."

"I got lucky with the ponies," Tillage claims.

"Really?" Kate questions. "What race was that? Your bet must have been on an incredible longshot."

Martin pulls at his collar. "I don't remember."

Kate leans across the table. "You don't remember a win that netted you enough cash to live in luxury? I find that hard to believe, Martin. I find that very hard to believe. And I'll tell you what I think. Your brother, Colin Rigsdale, crashed a car and killed his passenger. He thought he'd gotten away with it until his lawyer had an attack of conscience, and Pam Bonner's friend Erika started sniffing around. So Colin promised to set you up for good if you'd take care of his problem. You killed Ian Blaylock and Erika Albrook, and then you hung around the hotel just long enough to assure yourself that nothing pointed to you. But you made a mistake, a big one.

"Do you have any idea how many people have had to confess their sins to me because they were too greedy or stupid to get rid of something they liked, even if it was evidence against them? The detectives spotted Ian Blaylock's computer at your new digs, Martin. It was in plain sight. They didn't even have to search. That laptop tells the whole story — how you killed Blaylock and lured Erika to a meeting on the roof where you killed her. But Erika was smarter than you, Martin, a lot smarter. She hid evidence of her own, implicating Colin.

"This city is my home, Martin and I protect its people from you, from the Rigsdales, from anyone who thinks they're clever enough to kill and get away with it. The only question is, are you going to take the fall for Colin, or are you going to wise up and help yourself? Because the Rigsdale money can't save you this time."

Martin slumps over the table. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

Castle raises a goblet of red wine. "To Kate Beckett, mistress of interrogation and the scourge of murderers rich or poor."

Kate clinks her glass with Rick's. "And to her steadfast and plucky partner in crime-busting. But you know, if it hadn't been for Erika, Colin would have gotten away with covering up what he did to Pam Bonner. The rich and powerful have way too much influence over some of the N.Y.P.D. brass."

Rick sets his glass on the counter. "Hmm, I sense an idea knocking around in your remarkable head."

"Castle, you know I'm not a fan of politics or paperwork, but someone has to be able to run interference for good cops being stymied by pressure from above. The only way I can do that is by moving up in rank."

"I take it you have a plan."

"As soon as I can — after our wedding and honeymoon — I want to take the sergeant's exam, and the exams that come after it, until I'm in a position to make sure that investigations are the way they should be, regardless of who's involved."

"Kate, I'm sure you'll pass every stage with flying colors, but what about our partnership?"

"We'll always have that, Castle. Detective sergeants can still be in the field, and I know that I can always count on you to come up with ideas like calling on Hattie Livingston. And I'll always need you to chase the mice that run around in that brain of yours. I may be your muse, but you're just as much mine. In fact," she purrs," putting down her own glass and wrapping her arms around his waist, "you're giving me some ideas right now."

Castle's brows dance above his eyes. "I can't wait to hear them."

* * *

Hunt's been avoiding looking at his face. He doesn't have any pain that a couple of pills can't fix, and he doesn't doubt Lutz's skill. He's seen his work on other agents. Their own mothers, let alone facial recognition software, wouldn't have been able to pick them out in a crowd. But convinced as he is that moving into a new life is the best thing for him and his family, it's jarring. His new and final legend is carefully crafted, but it's still just a legend. He needs to become the character, Kenneth Bruderlin, that the company constructed. And he has to find a way for Ken to reconnect with Richard Castle.

The wedding won't be for another couple of weeks, and he'll be looking relatively normal by then. At least he'll be looking normal for Ken Bruderlin. The ceremony and reception are by invitation only, but he'll find a way to be there. Part of Bruderlin's invented background is as a security expert. Maybe he can get himself assigned to the event. He can sure as hell try.

* * *

Kate is trying her best to stand still while seamstress Trudy Mishner makes the final adjustments to her wedding gown, but thoughts keep racing through her head. The sergeant's exam is taking place just a month after she and Rick return from their sojourn on a private island. She barely signed up for it in time and won't have much of a chance to study.

Castle volunteered to quiz her during their honeymoon, but neither one of them is enthusiastic about the idea. It will be the first decent chunk of time they've had only for themselves, and she doesn't want to waste a moment of it. If she has to, she can cram when she returns. And if she doesn't know the N.Y.P.D. and its regs and procedures by now, she's a pretty lousy cop, anyway.

If anything, Kate's more nervous about meeting the Descoines than taking an exam. Rick chartered a plane to bring them to New York and hired a limo to take them from the airport to the Four Seasons. They'll be on the VIP floor where Erik Vaughn strong-armed the N.Y.P.D. into having Kate as his guard. That's just the kind of thing she wants to stop. Vaughn's suite and Castle's were both beautiful, and Kate has no doubt Rick's newly discovered family will be comfortable there. Rick decided that in fairness, Aunt Theresa's out-of-town clan will get the VIP treatment too. Kate just hopes there are no clashes at the elevator – or anywhere else.


	92. Chapter 92

Too Close

Chapter 92

Ken Bruderlin walks the perimeter of the roof, where the ceremony and reception will take place. He had to do some fancy maneuvering to snag the Castle-Beckett assignment from his new employer, but the credentials the company created for him won the day. As far as he can tell, there are no available nests in nearby buildings for snipers, but he could take a shot from a half-mile away. He's not discounting that another skilled marksman could do the same.

He has little worry that anyone will be shooting at him. His identity is too new to be breached if anyone was even trying, and his present duty is unknown to anyone except his boss. Richard, Kate, and celebrity attendees are more problematical. There are always crazies out there.

Fortunately, he's studied the plans for the setup, and with the arch at the center rather than the edge of the festivities, lining up on any target will be difficult at best. Of course, he'll stay alert just the same.

He double-checked the backgrounds of all the cooking and serving personnel and didn't turn up any red flags. Some of the maintenance staff have questionable records, but they're not getting anywhere near the roof until after all the guests have departed.

Ken takes a breath. His plan for meeting Richard again is straightforward. When his son comes up to the roof to take his place awaiting his bride, Ken will introduce himself as Bruderlin, dropping the pitch of his voice. Richard may recognize it anyway. If he does, so be it. If not, revelations can take place at a later time.

Running his damp palms over his pants, Ken reflects that he has only been nervous before a mission once before: when he engineered his granddaughter's rescue. Achieving his goal today should be easier, much easier, but as vital to his future with his family.

* * *

Tables pushed together by the serving staff of the Four Seasons take up most of the small ballroom where the Descoines and Theresa's out of town relatives are helping themselves to a sumptuous buffet. Castle and Alexis have taken posts at the Descoine end of the gathering with Kate and Jim Beckett at the other.

Both clans survey the offerings, with the Descoines gravitating toward the smoked salmon and Aunt Theresa leading the way to the ham and scalloped potatoes. The butterflies in Kate's stomach refuse to put up with more than a small serving of fruit compote and a croissant. Rick is also uncommonly unenthusiastic about food, sticking with a bagel, juice, and coffee.

Jim Beckett takes a stab at breaking the ice. "I've attended several seminars in Cambridge. I also took Katie with me when she was a little girl. We discovered a wonderful ice cream parlor with unusual sundaes. The scoops of ice cream were placed in a seemingly random way in the dishes with fudge and syrups applied so generously they flowed over the edge. Is it still there?"

A Descoine cousin grins. "It is, and it's still amazing."

"We have some great ice cream in Chicago, too," one of Theresa's nieces declares. "But of course, our pride is the pizza. There's nothing like deep-dish."

"New York has restaurants serving cuisines from all over the world," Alexis jumps in. "A group of students I'm part of at Columbia likes to try a different one every couple of weeks. We've done Indian, Greek, Nigerian, Middle Eastern, and lots of Chinese. Chinatown has wonderful little tearooms tucked away between the tourist traps. If you have time while you're in the city, I could take anyone who wants to go on a sampling tour."

"Sounds like fun," Marie replies. "We were planning to stay over two more days to look around a little. I like to find out of the way gems."

"You're like Dad," Alexis muses. "He loves to go off the beaten path."

Rick smiles across the table. "Kate and I will be following a path of our own after the wedding, but I can make you a list of eye-opening explorations."

"I know a few as well," Theresa adds.

Marie savors a sip of rich coffee. "Thank you, all of you. I look forward to new adventures."

Kate takes a deep breath as the guests return to their rooms. "That went more smoothly than I thought it would."

"I was expecting more inter-family family fencing," Castle agrees, offering his elbow, "but now that the official get-acquainted breakfast over, I'm actually starting to get hungry. Care to join me for a private bite?"

Kate takes his arm. "I have some time before Lanie's coming to fuss over me. I'd love one."

* * *

Lanie takes a few steps back after unnecessarily smoothing the fabric of Kate's gown. "Girl, you look incredible. No bride could be more beautiful. Castle's eyes are going to pop right out of his head."

"I'm more worried about popping out of this bodice. I know that Trudy said it fits perfectly, but I've been a bridesmaid six times and once the bride's dress…"

"Kate, I'm sure that bride didn't have her gown fitted by a costume mistress with Martha Rodgers' personal stamp of approval. I'll double-check that you're secure, but this dress couldn't hug your curves better. Where is Martha, anyway?"

"She said she wanted to meditate to prepare for the event. She does that a lot, especially when she has a new role. She says it centers her."

"You could use some centering yourself, girlfriend. If you start breathing any faster, you're going to hyperventilate. You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"No way! Rick and I have come too far and gone through too much coming to this moment. I'm not about to let him go now."

"I don't think you could if you tried, Kate. That man would follow you to the ends of the earth. He's as stubborn as you are."

"He is," Kate agrees, "but if he weren't, I never would have found justice for my mother. And who else would be willing to dive into a case with me, no matter how hopeless nailing the killer seems to be?"

You have a point," Lanie agrees. "And from the glow you picked up after the two of you finally got together, that's not his only talent."

A rush of blood warms Kate's face. "Lanie, you have no idea."

Martha raps on the door of the improvised dressing room. "Katherine," the diva proclaims as Lanie lets her in, "there's something you should have before you walk down the aisle." Martha fishes a small box from her purse and flips it open, revealing sapphire earrings. "These have been worn by the women of substance in my family. I never thought Richard's previous choices worthy of them, but I want you to have them. I've never seen Richard happier than he is with you, and I'll be forever grateful to you for that. Growing up with a single mother who was on the road a good deal of the time wasn't easy for him, and he fought hard for his success. But he never fought as hard for anything as he did to be with you. The jewelry is a symbol of my faith that you and Rick were destined to share your lives."

Kate struggles against tears that would ruin Lanie's expert makeup job. "Thank you, Martha, I'm honored."

Martha glances at the delicate watch on her slim wrist. "Well, there is a wedding about to get underway, and it can't proceed without the bride."

"Ready, Kate?" Lanie asks.

"Lifting her full skirt slightly, Kate heads for the door. "Let's do it."


	93. Chapter 93

Too Close

Chapter 92

"Just breathe, Dad," Alexis advises as they step off the elevator at roof level. "I checked three times. Everything is all set. There's plenty of seating for the guests, and the food looks great. My friends in the string quartet are going to start playing as soon as Lanie is ready to lead Kate down the aisle. That should be in about five minutes."

Castle forces air through his lips. "I'm breathing. And I know you have everything under control, but with Kate and me, there always seems to be another shoe to drop."

A tall man with an I.D. badge and an earpiece approaches the Castles as they enter the wedding venue. "Excuse me. I'm Ken Bruderlin, I've been assigned to provide your security."

Castle stares upward. The face is unfamiliar, but there is something about the jawline. "Have we met before?"

"I've never met you in my capacity as security staff," Ken replies truthfully.

The voice is lower, but last time Rick heard that cadence, it was coming from a radio in Paris — a radio that blew up a second later. "Hunt?"

"Ssh, Richard, I'm Ken Bruderlin from now on. It's the only way that I can be here that's safe for you, Alexis, Martha, and all the rest of the family. Just know that I'll be watching, and I couldn't be happier for you and Kate." Ken tilts his head toward the flower-covered arbor at the end of a short aisle. "Get over there. Go get married. I'll find you again after your honeymoon."

"Come on, Dad," Alexis urges, grabbing her father's arm. "The minister and Ryan and Esposito are waiting."

Castle lets Alexis lead him to his position, before gazing back at Bruderlin, who nods.

The door to the roof opens, and Lanie moves into position at the head of the aisle, followed by Kate on Jim Beckett's arm. Alexis signals to the musicians, and Lanie begins her slow procession, with Kate and Jim keeping pace behind her. Lanie takes her place on the temporary altar, opposite Alexis, while Kate lets go of her father and joins hands with Rick.

Gesturing at the sky, the minister clears his throat. "It is fitting that we should be standing here beneath God's heaven to join Kate and Rick in holy matrimony. The coming together of two people in love is the most sacred and blessed of occasions. As most of us have, I've learned something of their lives from the media, and they've also shared challenges with me, that the world will never know. Rick and Kate have both overcome many obstacles to reach this time, this place, and this fulfillment of their promises to each other. Their words will carry more meaning for the journey to come than mine ever could. So Rick, Kate, I invite you to say your vows. Rick, whenever you're ready."

Rick turns to Kate, the fingers of both of their hands entwining. "Kate, I was lost; my inspiration gone. I didn't know if I would ever write again. I never thought I'd love again. But from the moment you flashed your badge at my book party, I knew I found the one I'd been waiting for all my life. You are my heart, my soul, my present, and my future." His eyes flick to Alexis, who hands him a simple gold band. With an almost steady hand, he slips it on Kate's slim finger. "I promise that I will love you, treasure you, and be your backup, whatever this life may bring, always."

The minister nods to Kate, as Jim Becket sends her a reassuring smile. "Rick, I knew you only as a face on a book jacket and a man I stood in line for an hour to see for the seconds it took to get your autograph. Even then, your stories gave me comfort and strength. You made your case that no matter how evil the world seemed to be, there was enough good to overcome it. I needed to believe that, and after working with you and getting to know you, I was sure of it. You are the hands that reached out to pull me from the depths. You drag me into your joy, and you enfold me in your love. I can't imagine living a life without you." Kate looks to Lanie, who hands her a wedding ring for Rick. "I promise to love you, treasure you, and be your backup, whatever life may bring, always."

"Then, Katherine Houghton Beckett and Richard Edgar Castle by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the minister proclaims. You may now — oh, you're doing it already."

The audience applauds as Rick and Kate's lips meet.

* * *

Martha's eyes sweep up and down the figure surveying the merrymakers at the reception. There is something familiar about him. It's not his face. She's sure she doesn't recognize that, but there's an economy to the way he moves she's only seen once before. It couldn't be, could it? After 40 years, there's only one way to know. "Mr., uh," her gaze falls on his badge, "Bruderlin, I have the oddest feeling we've met before."

Emotions roiling through his brain, Ken gazes down at his son's mother. "Maybe in a past life."

"She looks up knowingly. Yes, maybe we did. Perhaps we'll even cross paths again in this one."

The corner of Bruderlin's mouth quirks upward. "Recently, I've come to believe that anything is possible. We can't know what the future will bring, can we Ms. Rodgers?"

"No, we can't," Martha agrees, "but we can always hope that things will work out for the best. Will you be assigned to New York for a while?"

He nods slightly. "I'm home for good."

* * *

Ken watches from the dock as a small boat takes Rick and Kate out to the ship, which will transport them to a private island in the Caribbean. He's familiar with the place. It's been the location of several unannounced meetings of diplomats and the odd world leader or two. The facilities are comfortable and readily defensible. Except for a small harbor, the rocky coastline resists invasion by sea. An attack by air is always possible but easily spotted either from the ground or by satellite. They should be safe during their most intimate moments. He still has ways of making sure of that.

None of the Descoines took any notice of him. Except for Richard and Alexis, possibly Kate and, of course, Martha, his cover is intact. Now he'll have to figure out how to keep it that way while still maintaining contact with the New York branch of the family.

His security job should work out fine. If anything, he's overqualified. Using the history the CIA techs created, and the hazard pay he's accumulated over decades, he could start a company of his own. Given the genre of his writing, Richard could claim Ken as a consultant. That would afford opportunities for meetings without raising any questions. In time, Rick could introduce him to the Descoines as a friend or at least a colleague. The more Ken thinks about the idea, the better he likes it. He can start the ball rolling while Rick and Kate are gone. He might even find a way to spend time with Martha.


	94. Chapter 94

Too Close

Chapter 94

Shading her eyes, Kate looks out at an azure ocean. "It's beautiful, Babe, like a photograph from a tourist brochure, but I always assumed that most of those were touched up."

"They probably are," Rick guesses, "but this island has no brochures. If anything, the presence of the general public is discouraged. Fortunately, the owner is a Derrick Storm fan."

"Not Nikki Heat?"

"Don't take it personally. He's more into guys who can press 400 pounds, but it's nice to know that my books cater to a diverse readership. Nikki has a universe of fans of her own, and of course, I'm the most fervent of all."

Kate grabs a handful of Rick's back end. "Of Nikki or the woman behind her?"

"The real woman has the strongest grip on me, but I'm more than happy to explore the subject further. In the mood to try out our bridal bower?"

"Sounds like a plan. You know, you already carried me over the threshold," Kate reminds Rick as he scoops her up and heads for their bungalow.

"Yes, but now I'm delivering you to a much more interesting destination." Striding across white sand, Rick kicks open an unlocked door and crosses the dwelling's main living area to lay Kate on the brightly colored spread of a king-sized bed. "How does it feel?"

Kate pats the bedding next to her. "Lonely."

Rick dives to her side, his fingers sliding beneath her gauzy sundress to ease it over her head. "No sun in here."

She reaches for the buttons of his parrot and palm tree emblazoned shirt. "And you don't need this." Her fingers dip under the elastic waistband of his swim shorts. "Or these either."

Rick's lips find the slim band of silk forming a final barrier, pressing a kiss to the smooth surface before sliding it down the length of her legs. His mouth travels upward, blazing a trail to the creamy globes straining for his attention. His tongue circles one pink bud and then the other, while the tips of his fingers reach down to do even more intimate duty.

Kate heats at his touch, her breath coming in gasps as she bucks beneath his manipulations.

Rick feathers a final kiss to the scar between Kate's breasts before his mouth takes the place of his fingers. As she plunges her fingers into his hair, pulling him more tightly against her, Kate's moans vibrate through the tropical air. The rattan headboard creaks and the light wood of the bed frame groans beneath them as shuddering waves surge through Kate's body.

She stills for a moment, catching her breath before her questing lips find Rick, firm and hot. The tip of her tongue teases him as she rides taut muscle of his thigh. Her mouth encases him, her fingers caressing the sensitive root of his masculinity. Tasting the first drops of his response, she pulls back, her encircling hand leading him to share their deepest joining.

Kate arches as he thrusts, brushing her palms over the dampening skin of his back. She can feel the pressure rebuilding within her, and their releases explode in unison, driving the strength from their bodies and the air from their lungs. Side by side, they lay hand in hand; awareness slowly edging its way past their lovers' daze.

* * *

Perusing Circuit Magazine to get the lay of the security business in New York, Ken notices an ad that seems like pure serendipity. The Allendale Agency is up for sale. He's vaguely familiar with the firm. They provide security for world leaders visiting the United Nations, some of whom the company has under surveillance. If he can afford the purchase, owning Allendale would fit perfectly into his plans. He can start by sending an email off to the address given for inquiries. When he finishes that chore, he can have a look at listings of current theater offerings. Martha must be appearing somewhere.

* * *

Martha examines her face in the mirror, not her favorite thing to do in the past two decades, but a professional necessity. Her present appearance didn't seem to be off-putting to — what was he calling himself — Ken Bruderlin. Well, his wasn't either. The work was as least as good as one could get from the overpriced Park Avenue scalpel wielders favored by some of her contemporaries.

She's occasionally thought about getting a few things tightened herself, but there's little point to it. The world is full of ingenues, and the theater needs women with the maturity to play mothers and grandmothers. As she's kept telling herself over the past twenty-plus years, character roles are more interesting anyway, as have been the men who've played opposite her. But no one, including either of her husbands, was as fascinating as the man she remembers as Jack. Hell! That probably wasn't his real name either. It doesn't matter. Ken still has the same magnetic pull that drew her to his younger self. She just hopes her dreams of a real reunion can be fulfilled.

* * *

Castle stretches contently in the hot tub. "I should get one of these for the loft."

"It would be nice," Kate agrees, paddling her fingers in the warm water, but I doubt the floor would support the weight, and you do have the spa at the house in the Hamptons."

"**We** have the spa out in the Hamptons," Rick corrects. "It's as much your beach home now as it is mine. Everything I have is yours. You know that."

"I think you can keep Boba Fett for yourself," Kate replies playfully, "and that smelly cheese you like so much."

"Well, when you get right down to it, you can keep radicchio, and — ugh — kale. But that still leaves us a lot to share. And right now I'm thinking about what we want to share for lunch. There is a small restaurant near the main house for guests who are unwilling or unable to feed themselves, but we have a full array of staples in the kitchen as well as some delectable additions. The island has its own gardens, and the fruits and vegetables all look fresh. I'm told that the fish is caught daily and would have been stowed for us just before we arrived. The roast beef didn't look bad either. Our host keeps a small herd of cattle."

"Sounds like if he wanted to, he could hunker down here forever." Kate sighs, snuggling into Castle's shoulder. "Imagine having your own little world like that. No bad guys to worry about. No bureaucracies. No traffic jams. It would be like living in Paradise."

"Barring the occasional hurricane," Castle responds. "But I can't see you wanting to live that way for very long. The Kate I know couldn't be content strolling among the lilies of the field. After a short time, you'd be champing at the bit to kick a little ass. And I'd be just as impatient to watch you do it. Speaking of kicking ass, are you ready to take your sergeant's exam? You won't have much time to study when we're back in the city."

"I think I'm as ready as I can be. But," she adds, as her fingers wander across his thigh, right now I don't want to think about what happens when we're back home. In the here and now there's only you and me, and I'm going to enjoy every second. That includes stuffing our faces with some of that roast beef."

Castle pulls himself out of the tub and reaches for a towel. "You're on! Last one to the kitchen washes the dishes."

With steps punctuated by shared laughter, they sprint toward their honeymoon nest.


	95. Chapter 95

Too Close

Chapter 95

Ken rises for a standing ovation a beat ahead of the rest of the audience. The rest of the cast wasn't bad, but Martha was sublime in the revival of Gypsy. He's never been much of a fan of musicals, but he can understand ambition, manipulation, and dreams unfulfilled. Those scenarios cover the situation of most of the human population of the earth. But he can't see Martha as anything like Mama Rose. She doesn't need to live through Richard; she has a life of her own and attacks each moment with gusto.

He considers hanging around the stage door to wait for her but dismisses the idea. There's likely to be a horde of fans waving playbills to be signed, and the last thing Ken wants is attempting a conversation in a crowd. He noticed that the security at the theater could be handled better. When he's up and running with Allendale, he can bid for contracts on the White Way. With luck, he'll be in the right places at the right time. For now, he'll grab a drink or two before taking the subway up to the neighborhood in Washington Heights, where he has a small but functional apartment.

* * *

Wiggling her toes in the foamy wavelets kissing her feet, Kate stares wistfully at the sea. "I can't believe this is our last day here. I don't know how I'm going to function when you're not within arm's reach."

"I'm not going to be much further away from you in New York than I am now," Rick points out, "at least not much of the time. We'll just have far fewer opportunities to enjoy our proximity. It will make, however, what hours we have to ourselves that much sweeter. Anyway, you have things to do and asses to kick, if you're going to start your climb to the exalted position you desire in the N.Y.P.D."

"True enough," Kate acknowledges. "We should go pack. The boat will be here in a couple of hours. How do we check out of a place like this?"

"We send a text or just leave. The staff will take care of the rest. And I promised our host a copy of the official poster and a signed edition of the next Derrick Storm the day it's released. I already made the arrangements with Black Pawn. You know," Rick considers, "it won't take that long to get our things together. We have time for a last honeymoon celebration before we depart for the hustle and bustle of the city."

"It would be a crime to waste the chance, And," Kate adds, interlacing her fingers with his, "you know how I feel about crime."

Castle's eyebrows cavort merrily. "I do. I do, indeed."

* * *

Sighing, Alexis closes her laptop at the end of her environmental science seminar. The facts and figures are staggering. What's even more frightening is that unless many people see current effects on their lives, they don't seem to care. The massive die-offs of species throughout the world don't matter, and neither do the rising seas — unless their own homes are flooding.

Dad told her that, in part, he writes to try to understand the bewildering things that people do. In her case, she's bewildered by the things that people don't do. Shaking her head, she checks her phone for the time. She can spend an hour or two at Jim Beckett's office. He's working on a class action suit against a pesticide manufacturer whose product is contributing to the collapse of bee colonies, and he invited her to get involved.

During her time in Costa Rica, she became aware of just how severe the decline of the pollinating insect population is. She met a guy there who went by the name of Pi. His fuzzy hair and fruitarian diet seemed like a throwback to the hippies she's seen in some of Gram's old movies, but he had a serious job tracking bee populations. His enthusiasm sparked hers.

For a few days, she'd toyed with the idea of inviting him to New York, but she'd begun to get tired of the sickly-sweet scent of tropical fruit constantly surrounding him. She couldn't see spending any more time with him. And she'd had her father's upcoming wedding to worry about.

Now, Dad is married again. It shouldn't be hard to get her head around that. Kate's been a constant presence in their lives ever since she and Dad plunged into the Hudson river together. Still, a wife is different from a girlfriend or even a fiancée. She's family. Alexis isn't sure how that relationship will work. Dad and Kate will be home soon, and she'll get her chance to find out.

* * *

Kate's been back in New York long enough to feel out of touch without her phone, but the only electronics allowed in the exam room are simple calculators. The sergeant exam is multiple-choice, and she's always been good at tests like that. The passing grade is only seventy, but passing won't be enough to qualify for a promotion. She needs a high score. Fortunately, her awards will move her toward the top of the list, and she has enough of them to gain a considerable advantage.

The test is on a computer screen. She's not the world's fastest typist, but she's OK, and it doesn't take much to mark a choice, just to make the right one. So far, so good. Nothing about rules and regs or paperwork is challenging. The questions about implementing community programs are a bit outside her wheelhouse, but she does the best she can. She's not sure about monitoring subordinates, either. On more than one occasion, Castle has pointed out how good she is at bossing men around, but once she's issued instructions, she's had confidence they'd be carried out. She's never had to worry about whether Ryan or Esposito were doing their jobs properly. She's not entirely confident about her answers concerning judgment calls, either. Usually, she's fallen back on going by the book, but the questions on the exam aren't that cut and dried. They're the ones on which she'll spend the most time and still have her doubts.

Castle's waiting for her when she finishes, holding a strawberry milkshake and a bag of dark chocolate-dipped cookies. "So, did you put the other applicants to shame?"

Kate takes a long draw of her shake. "Honestly, I don't know. I have a lot more respect now for sergeants and the decisions they have to make. And I don't know how Montgomery did what he did or how Gates manages. There's a lot of gray in running things, and I've been clinging to the black and white. The times I've colored outside the lines, you were usually handing me the crayons."

"Then I'll just have to keep handing them to you," Rick declares. "I'll get you one of those big boxes of 64 with a built-in sharpener. I haven't bought one since Alexis was eight and moved onto markers, but I just saw one at the big box store."

Kate's fingers tighten around her cup. "I think it's going to take a lot more than crayons, Babe, but if I qualify for the promotion, I'm going to try my damnedest to make it work."

Rick's arms wrap around her. "And I'll be there every step of the way, cheering you on."


	96. Chapter 96

Too Close

Chapter 96

Under Castle's concerned gaze, Kate's hand hovers over the screen of her phone. "What's going on, Kate?"

"I got the email with the results of the sergeant exam."

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Kate swallows and attempts to lick the dryness from her lips. "Yeah. Sure. I just need a minute." She touches her index finger to the display, revealing the text of the message."

"How did you do?"

"I got a 92, but with the extra points for my awards, I'm at the top of the list."

Castle grabs her in a bear hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We should celebrate. We can go out as soon as your shift is over, or I can get something delivered to the precinct that we can share with the bullpen."

Kate slowly pulls away. "Let's keep this between us until I actually get the promotion. Some of the older cops here, like McNulty, took the test too, and I don't want to make it seem like I'm gloating."

Castle nods slowly. "Sure, I get it. But do you want to share a glass of the red wine you love so much, at the loft? I could make that Stroganoff that you like."

"Yeah, that would be nice."

* * *

"This is the last of my research," Alexis reports, handing a thick, legal-sized folder to Jim Beckett. The newest statistics on bee populations back up the previous studies. I don't see how a judge or jury can ignore them."

Jim Beckett shrugs, shaking his head. "If the playing field were even, you'd be right, but the firm mounting the defense is massive. It will have at least ten associates searching for grounds to exclude our evidence. Their people will also be looking for any reason, no matter how obscure, to delay the proceedings. They'll be hoping to run us out of resources — and time, so that we'll have to drop the case before it can be adjudicated."

"Can they do that?" Alexis asks.

"Delay, yes, but they're not about to force us to quit." Jim declares.

A grin, eerily like her father's, splits Alexis' face. "You're as stubborn as Kate!"

"I don't know about that. Katie got a double dose — from me and her mother," Jim asserts. "But the Beckett family has never responded very well to anyone who tries to push the little guys around."

"My dad hasn't either. Maybe that's why he and Kate work together so well. I can't wait to get into the fight myself," Alexis declares.

"You're already in it," Jim points out. "The work you've been doing on this case will help a lot."

* * *

Ken checks his appearance as best he can in the bathroom mirror of his apartment. He's slowly getting used to the face that stares back at him in the morning when he shaves, but at that moment, he's more concerned with whether his tie is straight and matches his shirt. Martha always looks so perfect, if artistically flamboyant, and he doesn't want to embarrass her. They're meeting somewhere quiet, usually frequented by theater people far from the A-list and very few tourists. Still, with the diva being the current toast of Broadway, her presence may be observed.

That she's with him won't seem too worthy of notice. Allendale is familiar to the celebrity crowd, and it's no secret that Ken's the new man in charge. However tangentially, he's part of Martha's world. That's still a bit disquieting, but he's getting used to it."

He checks his chronometer, his mind still making automatic calculations of the time in hot spots around the world. Someday he may adjust to only worrying about the place his new life is centered, but he hasn't made the leap yet. Martha claims that she never eats before a performance, so they'll be having a late supper after her show lets out. What, if anything, will come next, he has no idea, but a shared meal is a good start.

* * *

Two months later

Using the tip of her fork, Kate pushes the eggs around on her plate. "Too much salt?" Castle inquires.

"No, the seasoning is fine, but Gates said the word might be coming through on my promotion today and…"

"Say no more. How about cinnamon toast? That used to be the only thing Alexis could get down before a big test. And you could have herb tea instead of coffee. Alexis used to make some for me when I was waiting for reviews on a new book to come out."

"That's sweet, Babe, but I think I'll just skip breakfast. Maybe a case will come in that will distract me or…" An alert chimes on Kate's phone. "Wow! A guy just handed a baby to a priest in a church and dropped dead."

"That should be distracting," Castle opines. "To the church?"

"To the church." Kate agrees.

* * *

"The baby is still here!" Castle exclaims, spotting the child in Lanie's arms.

"We called child services, but they're backed up. They won't have anyone available for hours, at least," Lanie explains.

"Boy or girl?" Castle asks.

"I haven't checked," Lanie admits. "I don't have anything to replace the diaper if I open it. This little one is hungry too. It keeps rooting at the girls."

"I can take care of both of those problems," Castle proposes, "or at least deal with the basics if no one official is going to show up for a while. Want to go shopping, Kate?"

"I've got work to do here, Babe, but you can take one of the unis with you," Kate suggests, "and I'll meet you back at the precinct."

Castle signals to a skeptical looking cop. "Come on! It will be fun. We'll get ice cream."

* * *

Kate looks up from her desk as Castle comes in, followed by two loaded down uniformed officers. "Where's the baby?"

"In the lounge," Kate replies. "Gates is in there. She put the afghan she keeps on her couch down on the rug so we'd have someplace to lay the kid."

"That throw will make a good place for a change, too. We should be able to make a gender determination shortly. I got a package of diapers, the good, recyclable ones, with the animals on them. They fit 3-6 months. That should be about right. I got a pretty good idea about such things on my daily perambulations with Alexis when she was about that size. Don't worry; I'll do the honors," Rick adds at Kate's hesitant expression.

Getting down on his knees in the lounge, Castle smiles at the tiny visitor and unfastens a now very wet diaper. "Well, hello, Cosmo."

"Why Cosmo?" Kate asks.

"We have to call him — and definitely a him — something. If Alexis had been a boy, that's what I was going to name him. The appellation connotes a universe of joy all in one lively bundle. Can you hand me the wipes? We don't want anything nasty hanging around to cause a diaper rash. There. Isn't that better, Cosmo? Just a second and we can feed you. I got bottles and formula too, the anti-allergic kind, just in case."

"Castle, what's all the other stuff you bought?" Kate wonders.

"I got a folding crib, and a carrier that converts to a car seat, so he has someplace comfortable to lie and whoever picks him up can transport him safely. I bought him some new onesies and sleepers too. Babies go through a lot of clothes."

Kate stares out at the mass of purchases in the bullpen. "I thought you said you were just getting the basics."

"Detective," Gates interjects, "someday you may find out for yourself, but for babies, those are basics."


	97. Chapter 97

Too Close

Chapter 97

"We have the rap sheet on the vic," Esposito announces. "Cameron Ducane was a suspect as a wheelman in a robbery but was never convicted. He claimed he wasn't doing anything except giving a friend a ride and flipped."

"Who's the next of kin?" Kate asks.

"His wife, Lissa Ducane. She's on her way in now."

Kate's eyes flit to the portable crib set up near her desk. "Then she can pick up her baby, and we won't have to worry about children's services."

"At least knowing that the child is all right should be a comfort to her," Castle adds.

Esposito shakes his head. "Except that here's the thing. Lissa claims they don't have any kids."

Castle whistles through pursed lips. "Whew! This could get messy, and I don't mean Cosmo's diapers."

* * *

Castle hands Lissa a box of tissues as she swipes at the moisture on her cheeks. "Cameron and I wanted to have a baby, but we didn't have the money. Cameron's always loved kids. If that baby was in trouble, he would have been trying to help. We were saving up as fast as we could. Roman Valenciaga, that's his boss at the Blue Moon Limousine Service, was giving him extra shifts. The last few nights, I barely saw him."

"When you did see him, did he seem nervous about anything?" Kate asks.

"You know, he did. He put an extra lock on the door to our apartment. He put locks on the windows too. He said he was just trying to keep me safe. Our neighborhood's not that great. If there was something else, he didn't tell me what it was."

"And you have no idea who the baby Cameron brought to the church might be?" Beckett presses.

"None," Lissa insists, dabbing at her eyes.

* * *

"Did you buy that?" Castle wonders after Kate details a uniformed officer to take Lissa home. "If Ducane was out all night, he could have been having an affair. That's one way to go broke. Cosmo could be a love child. He's certainly loveable enough."

"I've never been a baby person," Kate admits, "but he is cute."

"What do you have against babies?" Rick demands.

"Nothing," Kate insists. "I guess I've just never had the chance to get to know any. I had a few babysitting jobs when I was in high school, but they were older children — boys who thought it was cool that I was earning money for a motorcycle. Then I was at Stanford, and after that, all I could think about was finding a way to get justice for my mother. I wasn't serious enough about anyone to think about having a kid with him."

"Seemed like you and Sorenson went at it pretty hot and heavy, especially since he wanted to get back with you."

"Babe, that was him, not me. If I'd wanted to be with him that much, I would have followed him to Boston. The truth is, until you, I didn't seriously think about spending my life with anyone, let alone having a baby. And you have Alexis, so I didn't know if you'd want to have another child."

Castle sticks two fingers under Kate's chin, bringing her eyes to meet his gaze. "I'd want to if you were the mother, but only if you want it. With Meredith on the road all the time, I was on my own taking care of Alexis. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it — well most minutes of it — but it wasn't easy. I could fit my writing in during the odd hours when she was asleep, and then when she started school. But things are even more complicated now. If we have a child together, we'd both have to be all in."

Kate wraps her hand around Rick's. " I understand, and I agree. Look, if my promotion comes through, I'll have more control over my hours, but I'll also be on probation for 18 months. After that, we can both see how we feel about it."

"Fair enough," Castle admits, "but Cosmo is already growing on you. I can tell."

"Hey!" Ryan calls across the bullpen. "I found out who Ducane would have been afraid of. The guy who pulled off the robbery that Ducane arrested for, Jimmy Wolfinsky, swore he'd get Ducane. He got out of prison last week." Ryan nods at Esposito. "I got his address from his parole officer. Let's go see him, Bro."

"Castle, we should go see Roman Valenciaga and find out about Ducane's extra shifts," Kate determines.

"What about Cosmo?" Castle questions.

"The captain seems to be enjoying taking care of him, and L.T. is into it too. Anyway, children's services will probably be here to get him any minute, and we may be able to get a clue about where he belongs."

"You have a point," Castle concedes. "Someone must be missing him, and if they aren't, they should be."

* * *

"Roman's not here," The dispatcher at the Blue Moon Limousine Service claims. "He said he had a meeting. But if you're interested in where Ducane was the past few nights, I can help you with that. We track all our drivers on GPS, in case they break down or something. I have logs of where he went if you want to have a look at them."

"Thanks," Kate responds, "that would be very helpful."

In Kate's unit, Castle scans through the log pages he's divided with Kate. "This is strange."

"What, Babe?"

The last few nights, Ducane logged a number of trips between Blue Moon and two buildings, but he drove a different route every time. Why would he do that?"

"Castle, he was the getaway driver on Jimmy Wolfinsky's robbery. Getaway drivers time out routes. Hitting lights just right and shaving a second here and there can make the difference between pulling off a job and getting caught. Lissa said they needed money. Maybe he was involved in another robbery, and got shot."

"But where would Cosmo come into it?" Castle wonders. "He's bleeding out, and instead of trying to get help for himself, Ducane delivers Cosmo to safety. That doesn't sound much like what a crook would do, to me. There had to be something else going on."

Kate draws her bottom lip between her teeth. "You're right, but we don't have a clue what. What were those two buildings?"

"This just lists the addresses. I can check now." Castle regards the screen of his phone. "OK, one of them is a factory, and the other one is an office complex. It has a bank in it, and ooh, it's where they draw the balls for the lottery."

* * *

Esposito looks up toward a decrepit apartment above a convenience store. "That's where Wolfinsky lives."

"Hold on a second," Ryan requests, pointing at the lotto sign in the store window. "I want to pick up some tickets."

"What do you want to go doing that for?" Esposito snorts. "You've been worrying about money ever since Jenny told you she's pregnant. You shouldn't go wasting it on a one to impossible chance."

"It's still a chance," Ryan insists, "and do you have any idea how much money it takes to raise a kid? Almost a quarter of a million dollars. And that's not counting college. That's going to be tough on a cop's salary, even with moonlighting. And I don't want Jenny to have to go back to work, at least until the kid is ready for pre-school. One win, even if I only get five of the numbers, could take care of it. It's worth dropping a few bucks to try."

"It would be worth more, putting those bucks in the bank," Esposito retorts, "but go and get your tickets. Just have your head on straight when we talk to Wolfinsky."

Ryan grabs for the door handle. "Thanks, Bro. I'll be right back."


	98. Chapter 98

Too Close

Chapter 98

While waiting impatiently in line at the counter, Ryan automatically scans the aisles for activity. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters as a reflection in a convex mirror catches his eye. A man with a wolf tattoo on his neck is stuffing phone chargers into his pants. He's found Jimmy Wolfinsky. Ryan strolls over to the would-be shoplifter. "No one has that many phones."

Catching sight of the badge on Ryan's belt, Jimmy runs, only to be slowed by the line of people waiting to try their luck at winning a huge jackpot. Ryan easily tackles and cuffs him. "Dumb move, Jimmy. You and my partner and I are going to have a little talk. Look who I found," Ryan announces, shoving Jimmy out the door toward a waiting Esposito. "Hold on to him a sec, will you, Bro. I still need to get my tickets. If ever I was having a lucky day, this has got to be it."

Shaking his head, Esposito loads Wolfinsky into the backseat of the unit that he parked at the curb.

* * *

Ryan drums his fingers on the table, next to a pile of phone chargers. "You're on parole, Jimmy. These could get you sent right back to the joint. But Esposito and I are homicide cops. We're more interested in talking about Cameron Ducane."

"What about Cameron?" Jimmy asks. "I heard he's dead."

"You swore you'd get him," Esposito reminds the thief.

"I was just talking. If I'd been in his shoes, I would have done the same thing. Anyway, he was telling the truth. He thought he was just giving me a ride. We were cool. I went to see him a couple of days ago to find out if he could get Blue Moon to give me a job, but he said to trust him, I didn't want to work there."

"Why not?" Ryan asks.

"He said some bad things were going down that I shouldn't get involved with, that a dangerous fix was in on something big."

"What kind of a fix?" Esposito demands.

"I don't know," Wolfinsky swears. "but whatever it was, Cameron was sweating when he told me about it. Look, I'm sorry he's dead, especially with leaving a wife and all, but I didn't have anything to do with it. And if I could tell you any more, I would."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Esposito counters. "Maybe after you've been in Holding for a while, something else will come to you."

* * *

"The bank said there were no signs of a robbery or attempted robbery," Kate reports, shoving her cell back in her coat pocket. "We'll head for the factory, but I think the place might be closed down. The phone is out of service. "

"I don't know what the bad guys would be doing there. The place makes toys and novelties if it is still in business. A lot of small manufacturers like that can't compete with the stuff coming in from China. Too bad, too," Rick adds. "I haven't seen any Hula Hurl in years, not even at Drake's Magic Shop."

"Babe, I'm not even going to ask why you wanted fake vomit, but we'll find out what's going on when we get there."

* * *

"It's shut down all right," Castle observes, pointing at graffiti-covered walls and broken windows.

Kate checks the door. "This has been jimmied. Stay behind me, Babe," she urges, pulling her weapon and stepping cautiously inside. Carefully she clears the sprawling space that was a production floor and offices. "No one's here now."

Castle gestures at splatters of blood on the wall. "But someone was. Want to bet that belongs to Ducane?"

"We'll get CSU in and find out," she assures him, wrinkling her nose as Rick picks up a used diaper.

"Cosmo was here, too." He observes unnecessarily. "And whoever brought him here was cheap and not worried about the environment. This isn't even recyclable."

Kate rakes her hair away from her face. "What I can't figure out is what someone was doing in a defunct factory — with a baby."

Castle circles the idle fabrication area. "Kate, look. All the equipment has dust on it except this machine. And it's plugged into a generator that's venting outside. Whoever broke in and had Cosmo must have been using it."

"For what?" Kate wonders.

"Can I borrow your flashlight?" Castle requests. "Staring over his shoulder, Kate hands Rick the light. "From the shape of things inside here, it looks like it turns out some kind of balls. And there seems to be an adjustment to increase the size."

Kate giggles.

"Yeah, the jokes just tell themselves, don't they?" Castle chortles.

Kate presses her lips together, suppressing her laughter. "None of this gets us any closer to Cameron Ducane's killer or who Cosmo is."

Kate pulls out her phone. "Maybe CSU will come up with something. And let's find out what the boys got from Wolfinsky."

* * *

Rick hears the cries from the lounge as he and Kate get off the elevator. "Cosmo's still here!" The moment the writer picks up the baby from his portable crib, the infant stops howling.

"You've got the touch, Castle," L.T. remarks. "The captain and I have been taking turns while you were gone. He didn't calm down like that for either of us."

Kate watches as Cosmo nestles against Castle's chest. "Looks like you two are still buddies."

"I guess he knows a daddy when he sees one," Castle supposes. "And he probably wants another bottle. I can feed him and walk him around a bit while we wait to hear something from CSU."

"Fine, I want to go over what Wolfinsky said, with Ryan and Esposito. Then maybe we can do some brainstorming." Kate figures.

* * *

"We're missing something somewhere," Kate remarks, frustratedly regarding the contents of the murder board. "there's still nothing here that ties any of what we have so far, together."

"Hey, everybody, it's starting," Ryan yells, turning on the sound on the TV on the wall of the bullpen. "They're going to pick the numbers!"

Castle grabs a bagged lottery ticket found in Ducane's pocket from the board. "I hope Ryan is luckier than Cameron was."

A grinning host introduces the voluptuous, if slightly pale, Miranda Vail, who announces the number of the first ball that pops from the chute.

Castle's eyes widen as the number matches a number on Ducane's ticket. The numbers Miranda calls after it are in a different order, but they all match Ducane's choices. Castle calls the final two numbers out loud before Miranda announces them.

Ryan stares at Rick and then the useless tickets in his hand. "I should have taken you with me to buy these. What are you, Castle, psychic?"

"Sure. I inherited it from my grandparents on my mother's side. They did a mindreading act. It impressed all the crowned heads of Europe."

Ryan's mouth falls open. "Really?"

Castle grasps the detective's shoulder. "Really that my grandparents had an act, but no, I'm not psychic. I just realized what Ducane was involved with. Whoever killed him was fixing the lottery."

"Castle, that's supposed to be impossible," Ryan protests. "Otherwise, we'd all be throwing our money away."

"You're doing that anyway," Esposito interjects.

"Did you notice," Castle wonders, "that Miranda Vail and Cosmo both have the same adorable little crescent moon birthmark on their arms? I think Miranda is Cosmo's missing mommy. Whoever pulled off the scheme must have kidnapped him to make her go along with it."

"And when Cameron Ducane tried to intervene, from what Wolfinsky said, they, probably someone from Blue Moon, shot him," Kate finishes. "Miranda probably doesn't know that Cosmo is safe."


	99. Chapter 99

Too Close

Chapter 99

"Come on, Babe," let's go get Miranda," Kate urges as cries pour again from the lounge.

"I'm going to stay here with Cosmo," Rick decides, walking over to pick up the baby. "We don't want him to be all teary-eyed and miserable when he sees his mommy again."

"You have a point," Kate acknowledges. "But if Miranda is involved in fraud, even under duress, children's services may not allow her to take him until we get everything straightened out."

Castle rolls his eyes. "That's if they ever show up. In any case, Cosmo is going to need a friend, and barring the sudden appearance of the friendly social worker, Cosmo and I will both be here when you return with Miranda."

"All right," Kate agrees, "but don't get too attached, Babe. Whether Cosmo is going back to Miranda or child services, you'll have to let go."

Rick sways with the quieting child in his arms. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

Kate blocks Miranda's way as the woman is hurrying to a cab. "Ms. Vail, I need you to come with me."

"Please," Miranda pleads, "you don't understand what's happening. I can't be seen with the police."

"I think I do," Kate responds. "We have your baby, Miranda. He's safe."

"You have Bennie?" Miranda exclaims. "What about my husband, Paul? Is he safe too?"

"We don't know anything about Paul, but if we're going to find him, you need to come to the precinct with me now and tell me the whole story. Don't worry. You won't be seen in a police car. My unit is unmarked."

"Let's hurry, then," Miranda insists, "I did what the people who took Bennie wanted."

"About the lottery?" Kate interrupts.

"Yes, but if you have Bennie, God knows what might be happening to Paul."

* * *

Ryan hesitantly approaches Castle, who's singing to a smiling baby. "Do you think I could hold him for a while?"

"Gotten tired of a swaddling a doll, Ryan?" Rick inquires. "Yeah, I saw. I know you and Jenny are expecting. I think the whole bullpen knows. There's no mistaking a terrified father-to-be. Look, it isn't hard. Just take him like this and be sure to support his head."

"Yeah, I know. I've lost track of how many baby books I've read and how many videos I've watched on how to take care of a kid."

Cosmo/Bennie howls loudly as soon as he's in Ryan's arms. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Babies can sense fear," Castle admonishes the detective. "Exude some confidence."

"Confidence, right," Ryan agrees, as the baby yells louder. "You'd better take him back, Castle. I don't think I'm ready for this."

"Ryan, let me give you a hint," Castle responds, retrieving the baby. "No one is ready. Something you weren't expecting is always going to come up, probably the day you and Jenny bring your little one home from the hospital. But the moment you hold that child for the first time, you'll feel filled with the strength to fight the universe to protect it. There's nothing else in this world like that feeling. Nothing. You're going to be a great dad."

"Thanks, Castle, but I think I'll go practice on the doll some more and spend more time with my sister's kids."

As Ryan walks off, Castle grins down at Bennie. "In a few months, he'll have to dive in whether he's ready or not. High five?"

Bennie presses his tiny hand against Rick's and coos his agreement.

* * *

As soon as the elevator doors open on the bullpen, Miranda spots Bennie with Castle. "You do have my baby! Is he OK?"

"He's fine," Castle assures Miranda as he puts Bennie into her arms. "I just fed him and changed him, and we've been taking a walk around the precinct."

"Anyone show up from child services?" Kate queries.

"No," Castle replies, "but a Kristen Ariza called and told Gates she's on her way over. She should be here any moment."

Miranda turns anxiously to Kate. "What's going to happen? She's not going to take Bennie away from me, is she?"

"I don't know," Kate admits, "but until she gets here, let's go into the lounge and talk about what happened to your husband. There's a crib in there."

"Can I just hold on to Bennie?" Miranda asks.

"Sure," Kate allows, leading the way.

"Some men came to our apartment," Miranda explains, rocking herself and Bennie as she speaks. "They pointed a gun at Bennie and made me promise to use a certain set of balls for the lottery today. Then they took Bennie and Paul and told me I'd get them back after I did what they wanted. They warned me that if I talked to the police, they'd kill them both."

"What men?" Kate demands.

Miranda shakes her head. "I don't know, but I watched them drive off. They were in a white limo with a blue crescent on the door."

"That car was from the Blue Moon Limousine Service," Castle realizes.

Kate nods. "Cameron Ducane was right when he told Jimmy Wolfinsky that something bad was happening there. Paul wasn't at the factory, and Blue Moon was the only place besides the lottery building, and the factory that was on the route Ducane was mapping out. He must be at Blue Moon. I'll get a squad together to go in there."

A woman sticks her head in the door of the lounge. "Excuse me. I'm Kristen Ariza from child services. I'm here about the baby."

Miranda wraps her arms more tightly around Bennie. "I'm Miranda Vail, his mother. We don't need you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to investigate how the child ended up in police custody, and what your standing is in all this. It may take some time before I can release him to you."

Miranda looks at Kate. "Can he at least stay with me here until you find out where Paul is?" Her gaze shifts to Kristen. "That's my husband, Bennie's father."

Kate and Kristen exchange glances. "As long as the baby is still officially in police custody," Kristen agrees. "I'll make some calls and try to get through the red tape as fast as I can."

"Castle, are you coming with us to Blue Moon?" Kate asks.

Castle reaches for his coat. "You bet! If those guys are baby-nappers, I want to be there when you grab them and rescue Bennie's father."

* * *

As Kate's squad drives past the no-entry sign into the Blue Moon underground garage, Castle spots a bruised and bleeding man being forced into the trunk of a limo. "Kate!"

"I see, Castle."

Gunning the motor, Kate stops within a foot of the kidnapper's car as the other units surround it. Her voice emanates from the loudspeaker of her unit. "Police. Drop your weapons and release that man."

Roman Valenciaga and two of his drivers raise their hands.

"Down on the ground! Hands behind your heads," Kate orders the Blue Moon thugs.

Castle hurries to Paul Vail, who is slumped over into the trunk. "Help is on the way. You're going to be all right."

Paul grasps Castle's arm. "Miranda. Bennie."

"Safe and sound," Castle assures the frantic father.

"You'll see them both soon," Kate adds.

* * *

What's the situation with Bennie?" Castle asks Kristen as she finishes a phone call at the precinct.

The social worker shakes her head. "Since, however unwilling, Miranda Vail is implicated in the commission of a crime, and Paul has just suffered through the trauma of one, I'm going to need a judge to sign off on an emergency order returning him to his parents. I'll be in court first thing in the morning. I tried every avenue. There's no foster family available for him. I'll have to take him to a facility overnight."

"No, you can't do that!" Castle protests. "He's been through so much, and you want to take him away from his mother again and leave him with strangers." He looks at Kate. "We can take him overnight, can't we? And Miranda can stay with us. Paul can come too if he's up to it. Miranda and Bennie will still be in the custody of an officer of the N.Y.P.D."

"It can't be that simple," Kate asserts, turning to Kristen. "Can it?"

"If Bennie stays in police custody, it can," Kristen offers. "And we always try to keep a child with its family if at all possible."

Castle's eyebrows rise as he pushes out his lower lip. "Kate?"

A smile tugs at Kate's mouth. "Sure, Babe. Tonight, the Vail family comes home with us."


	100. Chapter 100

Too Close

Chapter 100

At 5 a.m., Kate opens her eyes to the sound of Bennie's lusty howls from the upstairs guest room. Groaning, she pokes Rick. "I thought you said that babies Bennie's age sleep through the night."

Castle grabs his watch from the bedside table to check the time. "He did. For a baby, this is sleeping through the night. He's been asleep since Miranda fed him around eleven. She would have put him down on a nice full tummy of what only Mommy could give. But he's probably hungry and wet now." The cries die out. "She probably just picked him up, or Paul picked him up and brought him to her. The first couple of months after Alexis was born, I used to get her from her bassinet and bring her to Meredith."

Kate props herself up on her elbow. "I can't picture Meredith as wanting to nurse a baby, especially given the way she left you to cope when Alexis was still so young."

"Are you kidding? She looked at it as having a boob job, at least a temporary one, without needing a surgeon. She went up a cup size and had a bunch of new pictures taken for her portfolio. I'm not sure what she did when she went down again."

"Trust me, Babe, women have their ways." Kate's ears strain for any more sounds from Bennie. "The baby's quiet. Does that mean he's going to let his parents go back to sleep until a decent hour?"

"Unlikely," Castle admits. "Babies tend to start the day early, but at least at Bennie's age, there are still naps for the little one, and if mom and dad are lucky, they can catch one too. So can others in his orbit. And we both love naps."

Kate slides back beneath the covers and snuggles against Rick. "Yes, we do."

At six, the siren scent of a hearty dark brew draws Rick and Kate to the kitchen. Miranda looks up apologetically from behind the counter. "I hope you don't mind that I started coffee. I wanted to bring some to Paul. He's really stiff from how those animals beat on him. He took a pill he got when he was checked out at the hospital, but it hasn't kicked in yet."

Castle takes an appreciative breath. "_Mi cocina es tu cocina_, especially if you're making coffee. If you're going to take some upstairs when it's ready and sit with your family, I can make pancakes and bring them up to you."

Miranda lifts an eyebrow at Kate. "He cooks!"

Kate wraps her arm around Castle's waist. "He does, and his pancakes are great, but I would pass on his s'morelets if I were you."

Miranda checks the coffee maker. "I'll keep that in mind, and thanks to both of you."

Castle starts the griddle heating after Miranda has made her way upstairs while Kate pours glasses of orange juice to accompany their coffee. "So," Castle asks, reaching for a cannister of flour, "how does it feel to have a baby in the house, if temporarily?"

Kate takes a sip of her coffee. "Different. I'm not crazy about the idea of being even more sleep-deprived than I get when we have a hot case, and I can't say I love the smell of dirty diapers, but there is a change in the energy."

"A positive change?" Castle queries.

"I think so. But we still don't know what's coming with my promotion. I can't think very far ahead until we do. Gates didn't hear anything yesterday."

Castle picks up a whisk. "Perhaps today will be the day."

* * *

"Detective Beckett, a word," Gates calls from the doorway of her office.

Castle gives Kate's hand a quick squeeze as she pushes out of her desk chair to join the captain.

"Close the door," Gates instructs Kate and motions her to a chair. "Sergeant Ortley from Robbery is retiring. The spot will be open, and you're the first pick to fill it."

"I'm not a robbery cop," Kate protests, "I'm homicide."

Gates pulls off her reading glasses and taps them against her desk. "I'm well aware of that, Kate. You may be the best homicide cop I've ever known. And the truth is, they don't really need a sergeant based in Robbery. The lieutenant down there is a hands-on supervisor. Also, you're aware of the reorganization taking place in the N.Y.P.D. Under the new structure, you'll be a lead in the precinct detective squad. What I'm proposing is that you'll be robbery-homicide. We can set up a cubicle for you up here. You'll spend most of your time with murder investigations, but you will pitch in with robbery when necessary. Crossover cases involving both elements will be in your portfolio. You're going to have a big job, a bigger one than Ortley had. Are you game to handle that, Detective?"

Kate relaxes hands that she'd unconsciously balled into fists. "More than game, Sir. When would I start?"

"This is Ortley's last week, so first thing Monday morning. I imagine we'll have the whole Vail situation straightened out by then."

"Yes, Sir. Miranda, Paul, and Bennie are here, and I expect news from Kristen Ariza anytime now."

Gates sticks her glasses back on the tip of her nose. "Very well. Keep me apprised. That's all."

Castle pops up from his chair as Kate approaches. "What did Gates say?"

"I'm getting a promotion, but not exactly what we've been talking about. I'll give you the details later, and we can discuss how we'll handle it. How are the Vails doing?"

"Miranda and Paul are on pins and needles, and I think Bennie is feeling the tension. I just walked him around a little for them, the good part being, I gave him back to Paul to change. And…"

Kate's cell dings a text. "It's from Kristen. She says that since Miranda isn't being charged with a crime and the doctor at the hospital signed off on Paul, the Vails are free to take Bennie home. She'll drop by their place with paperwork later."

"A happy ending if I ever heard one," Castle declares. "But I'm going to miss the little fellow."

"Yeah, me too," Kate confesses. "We wouldn't need one for a couple of years, but do you think it would be possible to build a nursery in the loft?"

Castle grins. "I know a contractor that could build one to perfection."

* * *

Ken slides into a seat opposite Martha at a corner table in a hole-in-the-wall bistro. "Sorry I'm late. Some of the fans following The Matchsticks found out where they were staying and tried to break into their hotel suite. I had to get them resettled."

"It's fine, Ken," Martha allows. "I've been internalizing the ambiance. I read the script for an avant-garde production that takes place in a restaurant much like this. I'm almost finished with my run in Gypsy, and I'm considering doing something fresh and cutting edge. You've created a new life for yourself. I'd like to take a leap or two as well."

"There's one leap we could both take," Ken murmurs.

"What are you talking about?" Martha demands.

"Martha, I waited over 40 years for the chance to be back with the woman who made it worth it to risk everything, and the family we created together. I don't want to wait any longer. Martha Rodgers, will you marry me?"

"That would be a leap," Martha agrees. "I don't have the best track record, but then maybe I was just waiting for the man I really love to come home. Yes, Ken or Jack or whatever you need to call yourself, I will marry you."


	101. Chapter 101

Too Close

Chapter 101

Three and a half years later:

The Journal of James Beckett

Dear Johanna,

Tonight I went to a party at Katie and Rick's place. It was a double celebration, and it was wonderful. The reasons for the gathering were Alexis' acceptance into Columbia Law School and Katie's promotion to lieutenant. Katie will be heading up the precinct detective squad now. I suspect it won't take her long to rise to captain if a slot opens up. That would make it even easier for her to spend time with Lily, but she and Rick seem to be managing fine.

She tries to keep her hours as regular as she can. It's taken her more than a little effort for her to let go and send others out to do the nuts and bolts investigation she used to do herself, but according to what Rick tells me, she shines as brightly as ever in the interrogation room.

Rick brings baby Lily to visit with Katie at the precinct as often as possible. He also still serves as a consultant on many murder cases. The two of them continue to build theory together, and a lot of what they come up with ends up in Rick's books.

Nikki Heat was pregnant in his last one, "Growing Heat." He plans to make some mention of a Lily character, with a name change of course, in the next one. He may even change the baby's gender.

Martha's husband, Ken Bruderlin, is always pointing out security considerations. Lily is never photographed by anyone outside a close circle of family and friends, and the pictures are never posted online. Ken is an interesting fellow. Supposedly he and Martha go way back and rekindled a long-banked flame. I got a glimpse of him at Katie and Rick's wedding but didn't think much of it, as he was running security for the event. From what I understand, he used his presence there as an opportunity to reintroduce himself to Martha.

They didn't have a very long present-day courtship before tying the knot. I suppose that at our age it doesn't make sense to waste time. As I know all too well, everything can change in the blink of an eye. What you put off may never happen.

As flamboyant as Martha can be, I would have expected a big ceremony, but she and Ken were married at the City Clerk's office, with just family and a few friends. Rick served as Ken's best man, and Katie was Martha's matron of honor. She was touched that Martha asked her.

Ken stays out of the limelight. I suppose that's normal for someone in security, to hang back and survey the crowd, but he seems to take pains to avoid the camera, waiting out of range while Martha struts red carpets and poses for photographs. From all appearances, the arrangement works for them.

Ken gets along well with both Rick and Alexis. At times he almost seems to be taking the place of Rick's mysterious father, rather than being the third in a line of stepfathers. It's nice to see.

I'm genuinely proud of Alexis. She's been serving in my office for years now as both an official and unofficial intern. That relates directly to my big news. I've been writing to you about the pesticide maker responsible for the die-off of so many bees at a high cost to farmers and the environment. Alexis jumped in with both feet and has been working tirelessly to help bring the corporation to account. Yesterday they finally agreed to a half-billion-dollar settlement. I don't know if the firm could have done it without Alexis' efforts. I expect her to be at the top of her game in law school and succeed in her goal to use her legal skills to fight for environmental causes.

I also think Alexis may have picked up a boyfriend recently. I can't tell if it's serious or not, but there was a young man named Max at the party last night. Rick was giving him the kind of looks I used to give Katie's boyfriends. I gathered that he graduated from Columbia in environmental sciences and will be going on to graduate studies. If he stays in the picture, his interests should mesh well with Alexis' plans.

The fee my firm will be receiving from the pesticide case will enable me to expand our offices and take on new associates. It's been a long road back from the dive into the bottle I took after losing you, but I finally feel like I can make a difference for the better in this world again. I'm still going to meetings, and it continues to be a struggle to keep from reaching for a drink, but so far, so good. If there's anything that gives me strength, it's family, particularly the newest addition.

As her grandfather, I might be accused of bias, but Lily is a beautiful and brilliant baby. She has the soft angel hair that I remember Katie having at that age, and her eyes take in everything. I suspect that she gets that from both parents. I always thought that Katie was highly observant, but Rick consistently notices obscure details that even she misses. That's one of the reasons they work so well together.

I'm enjoying being a grandfather more than I thought I'd enjoy anything since I lost you. Lily is life, all of life, in one tiny bundle. Even when she's sopping wet and screaming her head off, she fills my heart. I can't wait for her first steps and her first words. I want to soak it all in.

The Castle household is far from traditional, but I wouldn't expect anything else from either Katie or Rick. He became used to keeping the home fires burning, so to speak, when Alexis was growing up. Much of the time, he's still the stay-at-home parent. He loves experimenting in the kitchen, with mixed results, and walks the floor with Lily singing silly songs. She doesn't just have Katie's hair; she has her smile. I can see you in Lily as well. Those tiny eyes light up, and the world lights up with them.

Given Katie's ambitions, it's probably selfish of me to hope for more grandchildren, but I do. I can see taking a group of kids to stake out seats behind home plate. I'd love to see the little ones in their costumes ready to trick or treat. As I recall, a heroicly arrayed young Katie brought in quite a haul. And I can imagine the wonder of Christmases with little ones wrapped in the joy of the season. Every flower that pushes through the earth in spring will be a new discovery, and the warmth of summer an explosion of newfound freedom.

Whatever happens, I know that Katie will be there for her family, and her family will be there for her. I wish you could be with me to see it, my dearest, but I can feel your spirit. For every love-filled glance that passes between Katie and Rick, through Lily's happy burbles and stubborn bawling, you are there for it all. You could never be too close, and I believe that you will never be too far away. You live in Katie, in Lily, and will in whatever gifts there may be to come. That connection is unbreakable. So, for now, and forever:

All my love,

J.B.

Finis

A/N Thanks for hanging around, gentle readers. I hope you enjoyed the journey. In my next AU story, a murderer will have an obsession with killing mystery writers. Kate Beckett's favorite author could be a target. Join me for "Poison Pen." Happy New Year! Love, Sally


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